


Stripped Bare

by Kerrison



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:11:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 21,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9447008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kerrison/pseuds/Kerrison
Summary: A magizoologist embarks a ship headed back to London, a case full of adventure firmly in his grip. A Legilimens tends to her sister's emotional turmoil. And an Auror tries to warm her insides with alcohol now that the spark of one Mr. Newt Scamander was floating Eastward. (Story length currently undetermined.)





	1. Chapter 1

**F.W.Schramm’s Pure Apple Cider.**

The likelihood of a Bureau of Investigation raid on their apartment was virtually nil but there was no need to take unnecessary risk. Prohibition was alive and well in no-maj New York. 

When Tina had purchased the Dragon Barrel Brandy from the underground peddler several months ago, she had never bothered removing the enchantment from the bottle which made it appear as if the contents were merely cinnamon spiced apple cider. 

So it was on that damp winter evening that the bottle of F.W.Schramm’s, nee, Dragon Barrel Brandy, sat on the kitchen table, reflecting the flickers of firelight against its glass. 

It was exactly this scene which greeted Queenie when she slipped through the front door. 

Tina’s elbows were propped on the table, hands wrapped firmly around her favorite mug. The warmth from the china chased some of the chill from her fingers; the steam from the brandy-infused tea wafted towards her face. A forlorn looking Tina with eyes unfocused gazed off towards the kitchen wall, watching and re-watching a scene only playing in her head.

Queenie’s instinct to rush to her sister’s side and offer soothing words was tempered by the knowledge from years of experience that the wrong words said to Tina in a time of angst would absolutely _not_ help. These were the times when Queenie was utterly thankful for her Legilimens abilities.

She peeled off her winter coat and hat and used the slower motions of non magical chores to spend a few moments observing her sister. 

Tina’s own coat, a delicate powder blue, hadn’t made it to the coat hook that evening. Instead it had been carelessly flung over the arm of the sofa and her cloche casually discarded on an end table. Queenie made short work of placing them on their respective hooks, next to her own coat and hat, before settling herself into the kitchen chair across from her sister. 

“You’re wrong, Teenie. It ain’t like that at all!” 

Tina blinked, being startled back into the present by her sister’s gentle voice. 

She opened her mouth once, twice, then finally settled on a half-shrug before taking a sip of the alcoholically enhanced tea. She knew her sister had filtered through her thoughts. 

“Teenie,” Queenie started, sliding her hand across the table and touching her sister’s arm. “I promise!”

Tina cleared her throat and rested the teacup on the table top, still cupping her hands around it. “Did you go see Jacob?” Her tone was less accusatory than previous times she’d mentioned the Obliviated baker to her sister. 

Queenie’s gaze dropped, knowing Tina didn’t actively approve of the few visits Queenie had managed to sneak into the bakery. 

It was also clear that her sister’s disapproval had more to do with her fear of their jobs and legalities than her own personal views. Queenie had heard the thought _“One of us should be loved. It should be you”_ going through Tina’s head on more than one occasion. 

“Any new pastries?” Tina asked, continuing to attempt to avoid discussing the thoughts Queenie had heard initially. 

But her sister was no fool and not easily derailed. Queenie tugged Tina’s hands from around the mug and wrapped her sister’s fingers in her own, squeezing gently. 

“You’re wrong, Teenie,” she said again, her voice just as gentle as the first time. “You’re so wrong!” 

Tina sighed, finally succumbing to the topic. “I’m not, Queenie. I’m not wrong. He had every opportunity to-” she stumbled, the words ‘kiss me’ at the tip of her tongue but not wanting to sound so desperate. Even to her sister. 

Living with a Legilimens had its downfalls; this was one of them. Tina never had to utter the phrase for her sister to know exactly what she had avoided saying. The thoughts had swarmed in Tina’s head, clear as a picture show to Queenie. 

“He coulda done _something,_ Queenie. He wasn’t-” interested.She stumbled again with her words. “I think I just misunderstood.” 

“You’re wrong,” her sister said again, shaking her head and her strawberry curls jostling. “You didn’t misunderstand.”

“I had to! He had the chance-”

“He couldn’t!” Queenie interrupted, her voice carrying the dichotomy of insistent while remaining gentle. “He couldn’t, Teenie. You terrify him.”

“I......What?” 

Queenie sat back, pulling out her wand and flicking it around the kitchen, items beginning to hover and sail through the air at her whim. A mug of coffee made its way towards her, followed by a plate of cookies. The bottle of F.W. Schramm’s Pure Apple Cider zipped back to its spot in the cupboard. Her sister had clearly had more than one cup of ‘enhanced’ tea before Queenie had gotten home that evening. Two cups was Tina’s limit based solely on the depressing thoughts Queenie was trying to simultaneously filter through and tune out. 

“That case of his is filled with ‘Dangerous Creatures’,” Queenie started, stirring her cream into her coffee with a final charm before setting her wand on the table top. She lilted the words ‘dangerous creatures’ as both Goldstein sisters had spent hours snuggling most of Newt’s beasts and knew them to be far from dangerous and all things loveable or mischievous. “He spends his spare time trapsin’ across the world trying to befriend things most folks think would kill them on the spot, ya know? And he’d die for them, Teenie. He’d happily step in front of a killin’ curse to keep those creatures safe. You know how brave he is.”

Tina nodded, recalling with vivid detail the memory of Newt standing firm against Grindlewald, acting as a living shield for Credence and driving back the threat without a second thought for his own well being. She remembered him being dragged away at MaCUSA, pleading for the lives of his creatures, not a single plea for his own life. 

“But you terrify him,” Queenie’s whispered voice interrupted her thoughts. “He knows how to care for all them, ya know? He knows what Nifflers like for their den and how Occamys like their nests.” 

“Soft evergreen needles are prefered,” Tina uttered with a small chuckle, remembering the quiet comment Newt had made when feeding the Occamys their last trip down in his case before he made his way to the dock.

Queenie smiled at the warmth of emotion that flooded through her sister’s mind while recalling the encounter. “He knows all about his creatures and he’s got all the confidence in the world in that case because of it.” She sipped her coffee. “But, Sweetie, they ain’t goona reject him if he brings pine needles instead of spruce. They ain’t goona go find a better case to live in.”

Tina’s eyes snapped up and focused on her sister. 

“But _you_ might go find someone better.”

“He thinks ...”

Strawberry blonde curls bobbed as Queenie nodded. “He thinks you could do better than some goofy English guy with a bunch of illegal creatures in an old case. He thinks you _want_ better. The idea that you’d turn him down or maybe he wouldn’t know the right way to court ya- it terrifies him. You terrify him.” 

Tina dropped her head to the table top and groaned in frustration.

So that exchange at the dock hadn’t been him rejecting her. That hadn’t been her mis-reading his interest. He was interested.

 _Well at least I wasn’t imagining it, Tina thought._

“You weren’t. And it ain’t your fault, Teenie. He’s had some awful folks telling him he’s not good enough for most of his life. I think it’s just hard for him to think he might deserve somethin’ good....some _one_ good. Like you.” 

Tina sat up and scrubbed her face with her hands and sighed deeply again, but this time less of a sigh of frustration and one more filled with determination.

“Ok,” she muttered. “Alright then. So now I’ve gotta wait till he comes back with that book? Assuming he meant it-”

“He meant it,” Queenie assured. “He ain’t the type to say somethin’ and not mean it.” 

They sat in quiet for a few moments, each sipping from their now much cooler mugs. 

“Queenie?” Tina started, catching her sister’s eye across the table. “How long ya think it takes for a book to get published?”

“I dunno. I guess it depends on how long it takes him to finish writing it. Maybe a year?” 

“So, what, I’m supposed to sit around for a year and wonder if he’ll show up?”

In one fluid movement, Queenie pushed her chair back from the table while grabbing her wand and flicking it quickly in the air. A pen and the floral cardboard box containing their stationary sailed towards the table. 

“Maybe a letter wouldn’t hurt,” Queenie encouraged, picking up her mug of coffee and padding into her bedroom, magicking the door closed behind her and affording her sister some privacy for her correspondence.


	2. Chapter 2

~~  
Mr. Scamander:

I know that when we parted we didn’t discuss continued correspondence, but it is my hope that you’ll forgive the breach of etiquette.

Would you be able to tell me if your contact who breeds Apaloosa Puffskeins is also a breeder of Fanged Puffskeins? 

Most Respectfully,

T. Goldstein

~~

Ms. Goldstein

I was most pleased to receive your correspondence. 

I’m not aware of any breeders of Fanged Puffskeins in the United States. However I have heard rumors of a breeder in Canada. Perhaps your inquiries would be best aimed north of your borders? 

Should there be need for information regarding magical creatures in the course of your work with MACUSA, please do not hesitate to ask. Though please understand that I cannot guarantee that I will know about every creature you encounter. 

I was made aware that you’ve been fully reinstated to your rightful position of Auror. I hope you accept my hearty congratulations. 

Most Respectfully,

Newt Scamander. 

~~

 

Mr. Scamander,

Dare I ask, how did you hear about my reinstatement as an Auror? 

Do Fanged Puffskeins usually prefer glacial climates such as Northern Canada? 

While I’ve never been overly fond of blistering hot summers, I think I’m now also completely disinterested in living anywhere that regularly has knee-high snow. Traveling through Canada’s wilderness can be treacherous. Did you know that the moose there (non magical, of course) can grow to be the size of an automobile? And they don’t scare easily, either! They’re perhaps the most stubborn non magical animal I’ve encountered. Though, I suppose, when you do reach that size, you don’t have much to be afraid of anymore. 

Please be assured that the breeder of Fanged Puffskeins has been shut down due to illegal sales to the States. (The living conditions for those creatures were horrid. New York has sewers with better sanitation than those cages.) I did arrange for the remaining breeding pairs to be sent to a licensed breeder in Scotland - and rest assured, I was promised that the pairs would remain together. I recall your notebook containing an annotation that Appaloosa Puffskeins mated for life; I assumed the same applied to Fanged Puffskeins. If I’m wrong, please contact Craigh MacDonald in Loch Morlich. The transfer paperwork for the Puffskeins contained a note indicating you might stop by in the future. I felt certain you wouldn’t want to object and certainly hope I was correct. Was I? 

Thank you for your guidance. I would not have thought to look that far North. One more case closed thanks to Mr. Newt Scamander! 

Queenie has asked that I send her regards. 

Respectfully,  
Tina Goldstein

~~

Ms Goldstein,

I’m most humbled that you remembered such a small annotation in my notebook. Perhaps I should ask my publisher to include climatological information for each species I review in my book; thank you for the idea. 

Puffskeins of any variety prefer to be incredibly clean. Their fur can become easily matted and that can lead to easily irritated or infected skin. I can only imagine how uncomfortable those creatures were. Thank you for your diligence in providing them with a better environment. 

I will be happy to check on the puffskeins when I am next traveling in that region. I am not familiar with Mr. MacDonald, but I hope to be venturing to some of the larger lochs in Scotland in the future. I have heard of a Westphalian Water Dragon who has taken up residence in one of the Lochs. I’d like to perhaps see her myself if the opportunity permits. It would be such a rare treat as Westphalian Water Dragons were thought to be extinct almost a hundred years ago.

But the opportunity to investigate that will certainly have to wait. I suspect travel will not be an option for me until the manuscript is complete, approved by the publisher, and off the presses. 

My brother Theseus, whom I’m sure you’ve heard of- everyone has- received correspondence from Mr Graves (the real one, of course) summarizing my involvement in the “Barebones Case” and subsequent obliviation of greater New York City. He relayed the news about your much deserved reinstatement over refreshments at my mother’s birthday dinner. 

Please send Queenie my regards, in turn. 

Respectfully,

Newt. 

 

 

~~

Mr. Scamander,

Please don’t ‘ask’ your publisher to include anything, Newt. This is your book. One you’ve worked so hard on. You should insist on the book including the information you think would be most helpful. If that’s diet or climate or prefered sky-color, then be firm in what you feel needs to be included. You are the author! 

I haven’t heard of your brother, Theseus, other than his mention that awful day at MACUSA - which I’d rather not think about, thank you, as that entire experience just makes me angry and embarrassed. 

Regardless, I suspect Theseus is not nearly as well known in the States as he is in England. I don’t know if that is good news or bad news for you. But I do know that in the Goldstein house, you’re the only Scamander we hold in any regard. 

You think you’ve found a Westphalian Water Dragon? Oh, Newt, how exciting! I remember my mother telling Queenie and I bedtime stories about how Water Dragons loved saving children from drowning, and how their air bubbles can pause time when they were popped on a full moon. I am sure those are just tall tales about an extinct species, but how wonderful for you if you were to able to find another Water Dragon! 

I know I sound ignorant asking this but, just how long does it take to get a book published, anyway? 

Sincerely, 

Tina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm flying solo on this chapter - no beta! So any typos are mine and mine alone. 
> 
> Thank you for the Kudos and notes. I'm often too introverted to reply. But they are much appreciated and coveted. 
> 
> ((And shame on me for that abhorrent typo! Excellent catch!))


	3. Chapter 3

~~

Ms. Tina Goldstein.

Your memory is quite good, though I am far from surprised. Water Dragons are (Or shall I say “were” until I’ve confirmed the existence of this one?) by nature quite docile. You are correct that they loved children and there are many accounts of youth falling into the Rhine and, upon being found on the shores soaked and chilled, would tell tales of the dragon who rescued them and gave them a gentle and often playful ride to shore. Several children recounted the dragon warming them with puffs of warm air until the children’s teeth stopped shivering. 

Water Dragons were hunted for three hundred years at the order of the Ministry. As you know, magic which can be used to alter time is strictly controlled by our governments and Water Dragon magic was a variable which caused quite a bit of concern for those in power. They felt the easiest solution was to eliminate the Water Dragons all together. 

What is less commonly known is that Water Dragon mucus contains the key ingredient Gunhilda of Gorsemoor used to create the cure for Dragon Pox. The mucus is no longer available, of course, but the compounds made in its likeness are still used today. Sadly, as you and Queenie certainly know, the cure isn’t widely available. Perhaps helping to rehabilitate the Water Dragon population could provide us with more sources to help our healers prevent other children from losing their parents to Dragon Pox.

I have taken your words about my publisher under advisement. I will endeavor to be more firm with him about the organizational structure of the book and the information contained inside. He already attempted to convince me to re-write the book in a more fictitious direction. I ignored that suggestion. It is my hope that readers will be able to retain the same important facts you were (about the Puffskeins) and will learn which creatures are dangerous and which are most certainly not dangerous. 

Having never published a book before, I don’t quite know the expected timeline for publication. I am trying to deliver my final chapters to the publisher by end of this month. I suspect that the length of time before they go to the printing press is determined only by the number of revisions and edits he elects to make. 

I certainly hope it is printed soon. I have quite a bit of travel planned and I certainly cannot travel before this publication is complete. 

I fear I have taken too much of your time with this letter. I must confess that our correspondence has become the highlight of the Owl Post delivery. If that is too forward, I beg your forgiveness. 

Sincerely,

Newt

~~

Newt-

Perhaps it’s in our best interest to drop the formalities - if you’re agreeable, of course. I certainly know my Ilvermorny etiquette professor will not be reading our correspondence. I am in no great danger of punishment due to casual conversations with a gentleman friend. 

I’ve heard that Scotland is lovely in the early summer- especially the Highlands. When you go, if you find a moment and it isn’t too much trouble, would you sketch the loch for me? I saw your beautiful drawings in your notebook; your talents go farther than you let on! 

I hope our correspondence hasn’t taken valuable time away from writing your manuscript. That should be your second priority! Your first being the care for your creatures, of course.

Please do not reply until your manuscript is completed. I don’t want to get a Howler from your publisher because you’re behind schedule. 

Truly, it is a completely self-serving request. The sooner your book goes to press, the sooner I can purchase a copy and work to convince MACUSA to relax its Magical Creatures restrictions. 

Your friend,   
Tina. 

~~

Tina

Unless you wish to own two copies of the book, please refrain from buying one. I believe we had discussed that I’d be delivering a copy to you personally?

There is, of course, the chance I misunderstood our conversation and, if that’s the case, please accept my most profound and embarrassed apologies for assuming. 

Respectfully,

Newt Scamander. 

~~

Newt,

You didn’t misunderstand at all. I was hoping you’d be able to return with book in hand. However, while my knowledge about the life of an author is limited, it is my understanding that usually publishers traditionally have demanding book tour schedules for autographs and lectures. I assumed you’d be too busy to be able to deliver your book in person. 

With it being such a long journey for something as simple as a book delivery, I merely didn’t expect the personal attention to be on your agenda. 

Hope, yes. Expect, no. (And please forgive me if that’s too forward.)

Tina 

~~

Tina,

It is my hope that this will alleviate your concerns about my post-publication schedule: I will not be participating in any book signings or lectures for several months after my book is published (hopefully at all- as that sort of event is not my strength. That talent always belonged to Theseus.) 

I have already instructed my publisher that not a copy of the book is to be available for sale until my ship docks in New York. Your copy will be the first in the hands of the public. 

Please understand if I am unable to reply for quite some time. My good friend has instructed me to make my manuscript my second priority in life (second only to my creatures, that is), thus demoting letter-writing to much further down the list. As I know she only has my best interests at heart, I feel it is in good course that I take her suggestion and reduce the frequency of my replies. 

Affectionately, 

Newt. 

~~

Newt

I’m pleased to hear that you are taking the suggestion of this friend so seriously. While her motives are rather selfish, the end result is the same- for your project to be complete and in the hands of the public where it belongs.   
Should you find my continued correspondence to be a distraction, please use the letters as lining or the Fwooper’s nest and don’t read a single one more! 

Your aversion to public speaking is probably a reaction to years of speaking to a bunch of dumb Doras. Anyone who’s spent anytime time with you knows how engaging you are when you get to talk about your creatures. I bet you’ll do great with your public engagements. When the time comes, If there are any in New York, maybe you’d be willing to let Queenie and I come listen? 

Queenie has started to make it a point to give me my ‘letter writing time,’ as she puts it, each week. She makes sure I have plenty of of ink and paper and then disappears for several hours after dinner and gives me privacy with my thoughts as I write to you. Her running off like that almost makes me feel as if our correspondence is illicit. Is it? If it is, I’m not sure I mind. 

She’s not fooling anyone; she thinks I don’t know that during these hours, she’s out looking for newly opened Bakeries. I will admit I initially believed her feelings for Jacob were a passing No-Maj fancy. But now? There’s more in her heart for him than I gave her credit for, Newt, and I feel awful having assumed less of her. 

Of course there’s the legal problems with her fondness for a No-Maj. But, since I know you won’t tell, please give me just a few moments in the safety of our letters so that I can have the luxury of not having to be an Auror - but instead being myself. 

She’s my sister - I want what’s best for her. I want her to be happy. And damned if that loveable No-Maj didn’t make her the happiest I’ve seen her in years. 

I just worry for her, you know? She’s got her heart set on finding him. And when she does? He won’t remember her at all. And then her heart has to break all over again. I don’t want her to go through that. 

Concerning your offer of the first book: Newt, that’s just too much! Surely there’s someone who is more deserving of the gesture. Your parents? Your brother? Your friends? 

Affectionately, 

Tina.


	4. Chapter 4

Tina,  
I know I’ve been instructed not to reply but it should come as no surprise to you that oftentimes I find what I am instructed to do to be in direct opposition of what I am inclined to do. 

Please know that your letters are each read and re-read with utmost attention and appreciation. I don’t suspect they will ever see the inside of a Fwooper nest. 

If Queenie’s venturing out allows you the quiet you need to correspond, please tell her I am deeply in her debt. Your letters continue to be the highlight of my Post. 

Your country’s laws about No-Maj relations are antiquated and I hope that my observations about Swooping Evil venom only obliviating bad-memories is accurate. I believe most of Jacob’s memories with us to be positive; perhaps those memories will have avoided obliviation and allow him to have retained memories of Queenie. 

One can hope. 

Love is rare. And when found and reciprocated, it should be clung to. 

Regarding my publication: my brother and father have no interest in my book. My mother, once a breeder of Hippogriffs, has slightly greater interest in the publication for that chapter alone. She stands on no formality and will be satisfied whenever a copy reaches her. 

If you are intending to dissuade me from delivering my book because you’re no longer interested in my personal delivery, please state it clearly; I fear that deciphering the unspoken messages common amongst politicians and women alike is not a talent of mine. No offense will be taken if I’ve misunderstood and you’d like to purchase your own book copy. I would, in fact, appreciate the clarification so as to not further mention it and appear an even greater fool. 

Newt. 

Post Script: Dougal keeps attempting to steal my quill. I suspect he’s asking me to give you his regards.

~~

Newt,

Your correspondence, as well, is read and re-read. And, admittedly, read a third time when Queenie gets her hands on them. There’s not much in the way of confidentiality in our house - Legillimens or otherwise, we’ve never held much from each other. 

Perhaps because it was just she and I at such an early age? I couldn’t say for sure. 

She’s asked me to tell you she appreciates your kindness and understanding. And she asked that I remind you that “You deserve love, too, Newt Scamander.” While I don’t understand the context, I do second the sentiment! 

You two seem to enjoy having secret conversations! Its mildly infuriating. 

Thank you for the reminder about only the Swooping Evil venom only obliviating bad memories. At best, maybe Jacob will remember Queenie and they can become friends without MACUSA catching wind. She always put on a good face but I know she’s lonely and misses the instant connection she felt with Jacob. I understand that feeling, having only recently experienced it myself; that connection is not something you easily forget. 

You are correct- love should be clung to. The hardest part, I believe, is trusting that what you feel is reciprocated. 

Queenie’s always been aces at trusting folks not to break her heart. I have never had that ability - I bet dollars to donuts that you I are alike in that way.

It’s always safer to assume that feelings are one-sided than to deal with heartbreak and embarrassment, right? Kinda like keeping a guard over our hearts, I guess. Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to risk embarrassment and heartbreak. 

Please give Dougal a good, strong hug for me. I thoroughly enjoyed the tour he gave me of your case while you and Queenie were discussing school. He is, truly, much like you - incredibly gentle and sweet. His insightfulness is a bit disconcerting; there was a moment he looked at me and his eyes changed colors and then he squeezed my hand and almost smiled. Do Demiguises smile? He tugged me on to the next enclosure and watched as the Jobberknolls roosted on my head. Is that normal for Jobberknolls? Ah! Ignore my questions, please! I will learn all about Jobberknolls and Demiguises when I get your book - which I still hope you will somehow find time to deliver in person.

I suspect you’re reading this from your case- the desk chair is perhaps covered in copies of your manuscript? And so you’ve sat on the steps near the shed to read- sometimes with Dougal looking over your shoulder? That’s what I imagine, anyway. I guess it’s childish of me to try to imagine what you do when you read. But your case is possibly the truest representation of who you are, so I think reflecting on our few hours in that case and being able to picture you so clearly in my mind helps me find the words to write to you. 

If I could vacation in your case for a week, I think I might. It is a blend of peaceful chaos that I’ve never experienced before and probably won’t since. When you visit, would you be willing to show me around again? 

If that wasn’t clear, Newt, you deserve a good strong whack over the head with a platter. When you’re in New York, come visit. Book copy or not, come visit. Just bring yourself- and of course your creatures and case. Queenie and I would love to see you again. 

I would love to see you again.

I know I’m not always the best with words; you’re writing is so much more beautiful than mine. But I don’t ever want to be one of those people who says one thing and means another just for the sake of manners. I don’t believe if you really care for someone, you can do that to them. Affection requires honesty, I think. And I have deep affection for you, Mr. Scamander, so I will make an effort to always be honest. 

Yours,

Tina.


	5. Chapter 5

Tina,

I do prefer to rest on the stairs and read your letters. Dougal and Pickett, who is currently chattering away asking to write his own letter to you, always join me when they see a letter in my hand.

Dougal sits on one side and Pickett on the other shoulder, and both wait patiently for me to complete my first read-through before - I hope you don’t mind - I share it with them by reading aloud. Perhaps it is much like you share our letters with Queenie? 

Please tell Queenie that at one time I believed her to be right. Life has taught me otherwise. 

I apologize for being ‘mildly infuriating.’ In my family the modifier is usually omitted and I’m often just plain ‘infuriating.’

I don’t believe that it you are lacking on bravery on any front. You are absolutely the most brave person I’ve ever met. A Gryffindor through and through. 

Anyone who turns down the affections of either Goldstein sister or would cause you any sort of embarrassment is truly ungentlemanly and unworthy of your attentions. I suspect that a certain Muggle baker would agree wholeheartedly. 

Should any man foolishly cause either of you heartbreak, I would be happy to provide cartfuls of Graphorn dung to be left on their stoop on the warmest of days. While it certainly wouldn’t be sufficient retribution, it is the best a man such as myself can offer. 

Please have your sister remind you that you, too, are most worthy of finding happiness and affection. I suspect it might have more weight than if presented by someone such as myself, who only was able to spend less than a week in your company. 

I have a meeting with my publisher today, so I must regrettably make this a shorter letter than most. There is always the possibility that the Publishing house is rescinding their offer upon review of the most recent submissions. Or perhaps this is to discuss a publication date. Could be either, I suppose.

Best,  
Newt. 

~~

Newt,

You’re just awful to leave me (us!, Queenie would want me to say) in such suspense. Did you get your publication date arranged? I’m positive there’s nothing in the world that would stop the Publishing House from completing their agreement. And if there is, Queenie and I will send howlers to them all day until they agree to publish what is bound to be the definitive reference book for Magical Creatures! 

I think you and Queenie might want to correspond directly since I don’t understand most of what you’re saying to each other. When I relayed your last message, she just shook her head and muttered something about you needing ‘a giver.’ Whatever that means. 

Whatever you two are discussing, I don’t know the specifics. And it’s ok that you don’t tell me; I don’t want to know anything you don’t want to talk about, Newt. I know sometimes Queenie stumbles onto thoughts that we really didn’t want to share. But I do know that she’s right; you do deserve the same love as everyone else. And whomever told you otherwise deserves to be kicked in the knees. You have the gentlest heart I’ve ever met and I can’t stand to think of someone taking advantage of that. 

I’m sorry; you probably had no intention of hearing any of that from me. I won’t discuss it further. I’ll tell Queenie to write you herself next time so that I’m not in the middle. 

I do believe this is the first time that anyone has offered to defend my honor by providing me with cartloads of animal-dung. I am truly touched. 

Please tell Pickett and Dougal I’d love to hear from them directly. I will treat their letters with the same care I treat yours. I will, of course, have to enlist your help with translating when I see you next. 

Best,   
Tina. 

 

~~

Dougal and Pickett,

Thank you for the letter that you sent. The drawing was lovely. If the opportunity presents itself, I would love to spend more time with both of you should I visit the case in the future. Would you each show me around your favorite parts of the case? I am keeping your letter in the same place I keep all of my treasured correspondence; I have a keepsake box and your picture is being filed right along side Newt's letters. 

With utmost care,  
Tina

 

Newt, 

I’m fairly confident that the sketch was of a Bowtruckle tree. Is that correct? Please let me know before I say something horrible and offend Pickett! I’m confident the random smudges on the stationary edges were from Dougal- again please correct me if I’m wrong - but I have no idea what they’re meant to represent. Would you throw a girl a clue? 

-T


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** Note: I cannot fathom owls flying across the ocean. So I’ve decided that bags of post are apparated between The Ministry and MACUSA. Owls then pick up the letters at the headquarters and take them to their recipient and wait for the reply- which is returned to headquarters and put in the large bag. The bag then hops the pond. No owls are therefore expected to fly the 3500 miles between London and New York.   
> We might not be able to apparate easily between continents in case someone gets splinched over such a distance. But apparating letters? I mean, even modern United States Postal Service manages to ruin boring Muggle post. So it’s reasonable to suspect a few letters get splinched when sent inter-continental Postal Port. But better than wizards getting splinched, right? ;-)  
> (Lord help me I looked for canon on this but couldn’t find any other than unauthorized international Owl Post is illegal according to W.O.M.B.A.T. ...but that doesn’t address intercontinental post. So, if you find some cannon, hook me up with a link?)

~~

Newt,

Queenie reports that she found Jacob’s bakery and it is magical in its own way. Apparently there are pastries and croissants in the shape of your creatures. When MACUSA finds out, this is going to be a disaster. But, I must confess- I hope that MACUSA never finds out. 

She said that she didn’t spend too much time with him today at the bakery since his line of customers was almost around the block. She said there was recognition in his eyes and he touched his neck right where the Murtlap bite was- almost as if he remembered everything. 

I absolutely hate that my job as sister and my job as an Auror are at odds with each other. I suspect Pickery doesn’t realize that, if forced to choose between my sister and the paycheck from MACUSA, I’ll pick my sister in a heartbeat. I’ve always wanted to be an Auror and help make the world better. But if I can’t start by making my sister’s life better, then what good is being an Auror? 

Maybe you can find me a job in London if Queenie, Jacob and I get exiled for defying MACUSA?

Probably cart before the horse and all that, but I still hate that I even have to think about it. I sound like a spoiled child, but it just really isn’t fair. I don’t understand why we put so many laws on who someone can love. 

Why should someone have to forego love because of propriety? 

Yours,  
Tina.

~~

Newt,

I suspect I might have missed your last few owls. There’s been no sign of any post recently and I am wondering if perhaps I said something to cause you to stop correspondence. If so, please accept my deepest apologies. Your letters have been a bright spot during some otherwise trying cases. 

Of course the details are classified but since Grindelwald’s escape, there hasn’t been an assignment that hasn’t left me wanting to cry each night. 

I will continue to look for your letters in the hopes that there’s just been a delay in MACUSA’s processing of international post. Can you imagine the days before MACUSA and the Ministry set up Postal Port? I would feel horrible sending an owl across across the ocean with letters! How much rest would you suspect a traditional post owl would need after such a journey? 

I truly hope you and your creatures are all well and that there’s just a delay in the post and nothing more troublesome. 

Fondly,  
Tina. 

~~

Newt,

Your silence is starting to give me a complex; Queenie’s spent the better part of the week trying to convince me that I didn’t say anything that could possibly be considered ill-mannered and thus damage our friendship. 

She then spent the remaining part of the week convincing me that yes, this correspondence is a friendship. Which is good. I had hoped that was the case. But if I was wrong and assumed too much, please forgive me and we can keep topics strictly on business! 

Respectfully,

Ms. Tina Goldstein. 

~~


	7. Chapter 7

She had managed to continue on in her daily routine as if the bounce to her step had not suddenly disappeared. 

Tina had always felt the need to be more professional during work hours than most of her counterparts. She was there to do a job, not socialize. So the sparkle that had glimmered in her eye for the last few months had not been noticed and therefore could not be missed by her fellow Aurors. 

But Queenie noticed. 

Of course, Queenie noticed. 

Chores took a little longer now. The impetus to get through dinner and dishes and laundry and tidying to afford more time for letter writing was now gone.

The joy of writing a personal letter was that letters were meant to be read. One wrote in their own tone and manner knowing that it would be read with their voice in the reader’s mind and heart. Each word penned was a number in the combination lock that was her guard. Each confession of friendship was a small chink in her armor. And each time the International Post Owl dropped another reply, the hope that she was somehow worthy of friendship, never mind more than that, grew like the most coveted and rare seed. 

During her patrols, there had been moments when her eye had had caught sight of a rich blue coat and she found herself with a sudden lump in her throat. 

Could it be?

But of course it wasn’t. 

It would never be again, she felt. 

The friendship she had tried to trust in, tried to nurture and feed with honesty and blind faith in something bigger than her own world, seemed to have vanished. 

There were several days of unsent letters sitting on the mantle. Queenie had made attempts to get them to the outbound Owl Post at MACUSA but Tina had waved her off each time, muttering that she didn’t want to bombard the poor man, that Newt was busy, that it was his turn, that clearly he wasn’t interested. 

She was, if nothing else, consistent in her self-doubt. 

At least when it came to interpersonal skills, that is. 

As an Auror her confidence was at an all time high. She had contributed to the capture of Grindlewald. She had worked to revise legislation about magical children born to or adopted by non magical parents and their futures. What had happened to Credence certainly could not happen again and she was working in the field and behind the mountain of paper on her desk to ensure that tragedy was a one-time occurrence. 

In the quietness of her mind when she was at her desk or patrolling a quiet street in the evening, she relived that subway encounter. Each and every minute. She knew without Newt’s help the ending would have been horribly different. But she would have held her own, even if it would have been where she died. At least, she knew, she would have died protecting Credence. 

As a professional, her confidence hadn’t been shaken one bit by the change in her personal routine. 

As a woman, however, it was an entirely different story. 

Those nights sitting in her blue chair in front of the fire, just her and her thoughts, Queenie out looking for Jacob, had become some of the most cathartic moments she could recall in her adult life. 

Communicating with Queenie had always been subconscious. Even verbal communication was relatively unnecessary between the two of them. Tina was never any good at Legilimency but she was an expert at reading Queenie’s body language; it was pretty much the same thing when it came to her sister. 

But even though they rarely needed words between them, there were still words - and thoughts - that largely went undiscussed. 

Mostly because Queenie knew that no matter what she said, she couldn’t heal old wounds of too much rejection too soon, and too much heartbreak too young. 

Taking care of her younger sister had made Tina grow up much quicker than her peers in many respects, but it had left her without anyone to mother her through her first heartbreaks. Queenie knew it was the reason that Tina was so reluctant to trust. And it was why Tina’s correspondence and blossoming friendship (nee, courtship?) with Newt was such a large step for her normally reserved and wallflower-esque elder sister. 

When the bounce slowly faded from Tina’s step, and the pile of unsent letters didn’t continue to grow, Queenie was no longer willing to sit idly by. 

~~

Mr. Scamander, 

Sweetie, I’m sure you’re busy with your creatures, but if you don’t want to write to Tina anymore, you could at least say so. Maybe you don’t want to tell her? Then please say something to me so I can give her the message. 

I don’t like watching my sister feeling like this. I know you asked me not to read your mind, but it was almost impossible not to, Newt, when your feelings for Teenie were screaming at me. And I just can’t imagine what’s going on with you that would cause you to push her away. 

She misses you. And I miss having my happy sister around.

She’s one hell of a giver, Mr. Scamander. Don’t turn your nose up at that gift. 

Write soon. Please. 

Queenie.


	8. Chapter 8

It was the time of year when you could feel Nature’s promise of Spring just peeking her head around the corner. Winter was holding on with a tight grip, but there were the occasional days where the sun won in the battle against the clouds, where the dampness eased off just enough to let your bones take a day off from aching, and where your winter coat and scarf were not both necessary at the same time. 

This was one of those days.

The side door to 233 Broadway opened and Tina walked out, shrugging on her winter coat. Her eyes were cast skyward, taking in the first blue sky she had seen in weeks. 

Her gaze dropped back to the crowded sidewalk in front of her and she blinked the sun out of her eyes.

A flash of Cobalt in the corner of her eye made her breath catch, just like always, but she refused to stop and look. She couldn’t do that to herself anymore.

He wasn’t coming back. 

The rhythmic beat of her shoes on the sidewalk kept her moving at her normal brisk pace. She had just finished up another very long day and she was tired and wanted to get home to bury herself in a book and then sleep as long as she could manage. 

Sleep had eluded her recently and she’d managed to work her way through quite a few of HG Wells’ books thanks to the New York Library. The No-Maj fiction was a good way to keep her mind from trailing down wizardly paths which always lead her back to Credence, Newt, the Subway, and that day at the docks and her relatively solitary life.

Queenie, ever the social butterfly, would invite her out to drink or dance at the local watering holes; Tina often declined, preferring to work late or stay in with a book or, in better weather, go for strolls through the park and ‘people watch’ as she liked to call it. 

Even if she had been inclined to be more social the offers had started to dwindle down to nothing as Queenie spent more and more of her free time trying to develop a friendship with Jacob as the No-Maj slowly regained pieces of his grand and magical New York adventure. 

The house would be quiet and empty when she opened the door this evening, Tina knew. Queenie would often leave some supper with a warming charm but it wasn’t guaranteed. The Goldstein women were moving in two different directions of late; Queenie setting her sights on a long term relationship, and Tina having realized her only relationship was with her work. 

Mouthwatering scents of Toasted Rye wafted across the street and caused Tina’s pace to slow as she made the last-minute decision to cross the busy road to the corner delicatessen. She ducked through two lanes of traffic before her feet felt sidewalk under them again. 

“Ms Goldstein!” 

Her ears pricked at the sound of her name. The roar of the traffic made it hard to tell what direction it had come from. 

“Ms. Goldstein!”

She spun around, trying to see between the moving layers of cars to the opposide side of the street. 

There.

Just there. Between the green Flint and the black Model G that spat a nasty cloud of exhaust behind it, she caught another glimpse of blue. 

“Tina!” the voice called again and she watched as the figure shifted, trying to find a way across the busy street to reach her. 

The voices and horn-honking and droaning sounds of engine chugging had always been the background noise of her adult life. But in this one instance she could not have possibly wanted more for the cars and people to disappear. 

For just the briefest of moments, she allowed herself to feel the same questioning delight that always came with a flash if that shade of blue amongst the crowd. She would not allow herself to squelch that hope this time. Because this time was different; that voice sounded familiar in all the right ways. 

“Tina!” the voice called again and she watched as a lanky form ensconced in a blue- that blue- coat managed to sneak through the final set of cars and ...

There he was. 

“Tina” he said again, sounding slightly out of breath. “Ms. Goldstein. I do beg your pardon.” 

She breathed. “Newt.” She breathed out his name and she realized she felt like she had been holding her breath since that day on the docks. 

“Yes. I....” he stepped up next to her on the curb and took a breath to gather himself. “I..”

Her face fought with her heart. The frown wanted to form so badly but her heart wanted to push up a smile. “What are you doing here?” The half-smile won out. 

“I was - well, my book,” he said, trying to juggle his case - that lovely, blasted case- a pile of envelopes bound in string, and simultaneously attempting to dig in his coat pockets. 

She reached out a hand to assist in some way just as he extended the arm with his case, silently requesting that she relieve him of it so he could use his hands more freely. 

The enormity of handing off the case was not lost on her and instead of merely gripping it by the handle, she held it firmly against her chest as preciously as a jewel from a museum. He dug through his pockets. Tina silently blinked, not entirely certain that what she was witnessing was real and not some sort of fanciful daydream. 

“Ah yes, here it is,” he said, reaching into an inner pocket and pulling out a distinctly book shaped package wrapped in brown paper. 

“Your book,” she breathed, regarding it with awe.“Newt - you must be so pleased,” she said, shaking her head in awe.

“You said you wouldn’t mind a personal delivery,” he muttered, his gaze cast down at the street.

“I did say that,” she said, her half-smile turning into a full smile. 

She reluctantly loosened her grip on the case to free up a hand and take the pro-offered package. 

Their fingers barely grazed as it was passed between them and his movements stuttered as he reached for his case but tried to be gentlemanly about invading her space. It wouldn’t do to be in appropriate. 

Tina felt his gaze rest on her face as soon as she lowered her eyes to the wrapped book. “Thank you.” 

“Well, ...” he stuttered. “Yes. Of course. I did want you to have the first copy.”

“I didn’t expect you to be here-” Tina uttered before her brain caught up with her. “Why are you here, Newt? How did you find me?” This wasn’t her usual route home and her work schedule certainly had changed as her hours increased lately. His previous trip to New York hadn’t included the greater tour of Tina’s daily routine, either, so the likelihood of him running into her on the street was relatively nil. 

“Yes, well, I was trying to surprise you with the book,” he said, his voice thick with uncertainty. “And when I got through customs and entered the alley to disparate to your flat, I was accosted by several MACUSA paper rats and-”

Tina closed her eyes and held up a hand to his lips, silencing his words instantly. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this here?” She said, more of a command than a statement. Her eyes pointedly glanced around at the No-Majs walking home from work on the sidewalks just next to them.   
Newt’s eyes widened slightly as he realized his slip. “Of course,” he muttered, his lips moving against her fingers - and his heart and brain approaching overdrive at the mere sensation of her skin on his lips. 

Tina blushed, realizing the intimacy of her gesture and dropped his gaze and her hand. She squared her shoulders and tugged the book tightly against her chest. 

“Mr. Scamander, would you care to join me for dinner?” She inclined her head towards the delicatessen. “You can tell me your adventures with rats while we eat take-away at my kitchen table?” 

Newt’s crooked grin graced his face. “I’d like that.”


	9. Chapter 9

He had happily shed his coat at the door, claiming a coat-hook next to Tina’s, but his case- that blasted and amazing case- had not left his side. He had settled himself into the same chair he had used last time he dined at the Goldsteins’ and his case had ended up at his feet again. 

The tan deli paper that had ensconced his pastrami now lay open on the table and it crinkled slightly each time he lifted his sandwich for a bite. 

“So you get off the boat, make it through customs and suddenly there are paper rats climbing up the legs of your pants?” she recounted, prompting him for more story as soon as he swallowed his mouthful. 

He nodded sipped his water. “I had a package for me at MACUSA and the rats were dispatched as soon as I set foot on United States soil. I wasn’t aware they had locators on me.”

She chuckled. “After last time, they’d be foolish not to. Though I think it’s a formality, really. Picquery’s not angry anymore when she talks about ‘The Subway Incident.’ Her tone just shifts between ‘irritated’ and ‘intrigued.’”

“Really?”

Tina nodded. “I better not bring my book to work or else I bet she’ll try to get her hands on it to read more about your creatures.”

“I could get her a copy if that would help.” 

“Nah. Make her wait to buy one like everyone else,” Tina said with a chuckle. “We’ll call it punishment for not listening to you in the first place.” 

“Or listening to you,” Newt added, offering Tina the credit where it was certainly due. 

Tina merely shrugged off his compliment and wrapped the remainder of her sandwich in the deli-paper. She stood and carried her left overs to the small ice-chest in the corner of the room. While there was no block of ice, the cooling charm she and Queenie had placed on the unit served its purpose and food remained quite well-kept. 

“So, did you get whatever package was waiting for you at Headquarters?”

“Yes.” 

Selective memory was a horrible thing, Tina thought. She had clearly forgotten how conversations with him had originally been like pulling teeth. _Do not ask him. If he wants to tell you, he will. He’s the one who stopped writing. He’s the one who stopped. Do not seem too interested, Porpentina Goldstein_ , she silently coached herself, secretly thankful Queenie wasn’t there to hear her thoughts. 

“It seems that I had some Owl post that was undeliverable,” he said, reaching down to pluck the packet of envelopes from the top of his case. 

She turned from the small counter to see the packet of envelopes now resting on the table top.

Now that she was able to look at them without the distraction of a busy New York street, not to mention the shock of Newt’s sudden appearance in front of her, she recognized the handwriting.

Her handwriting. 

Her letters.

He hadn’t gotten them. They had been undeliverable and waiting for a second delivery attempt at the MACUSA Post office. 

He hadn’t gotten her letters. 

He hadn’t not replied. He just hadn’t gotten them -- until today. 

“Oh,” was all she was able to eek out, her eyes never leaving that damned pile of mail on the table. 

“I left London a bit earlier than expected,” he offered. Newt kept his forearms resting on the table top though his stiffness of his upper body belied the casual appearance. He was as defensive as a puppy waiting to get spanked. 

“I met with my publisher and he handed me the first copy of the book and, well, I didn’t really think much further. I headed straight for the ticketing agent at Atlantic Transport lines and bought a ticket for the ship that was leaving that afternoon.” 

“You didn’t pack? You just... got on a ship to come here?”

Newt shrugged. “I keep spares of everything in my case.” 

“You just...left?”

He nodded. “I wanted to deliver the book.” 

Her jaw dropped a few times before she eked out “That’s... Newt! Most people don’t just hop on a ship!” 

“I wanted to deliver the book,” he said again, his voice having dropped to a remorseful whisper. 

She looked at him with the analytical gaze she usually reserved for criminals. 

This display of intense friendship was, she knew, more dangerous for Newt than any creature he’d encounter. Queenie was right; he’d befriend a Hungarian Horntail without breaking a sweat, but he looked like she could crush him with one just word. 

And yet he had walked through every fear he had that day when he got on the ship without a look back, his only intention to fulfill his promise to her and do so in person. He risked his trust in another human being when he bought that ticket without a second thought. 

The silence in the apartment was deafening. 

He expected yelling at his audacity. He expected mockery. He expected to be told to leave for being too bold. He did not expect to hear her footsteps as she crossed the room towards the fireplace and then back to the table.

He did not expect to feel his hand lifted off the table and even more envelopes dropped into his grip. 

He did not expect to feel her lean over and, ever so gently, brush her lips across his cheek in a whisper of a kiss. 

He did not expect to hear “Thank you” whispered near his ear. 

“I-” ... he cleared his throat and closed his fingers firmly around the bundle in his hand. “What are these?”

“Since you have some reading to catch up on, you can add those to the pile.” Tina squared her shoulders and summoned a bit of Auror courage. “Those are the letters I was too afraid to send after you stopped replying,” she pointed at the original stack of undeliverable mail. “Or after I thought you had stopped anyway.” 

She fussed with the edges of her shirt-sleeves, rolling them up to her elbows. 

“Now,” Tina ran her hands down her pants, smoothing them. “Isn’t it about dinner time for your creatures? Would it be alright if I joined you for a while?”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Seriously? How is this 10 chapters by now with 2 more already written? Thank you for all the comments and feedback so far. I very much appreciate them!)

Newt latched the case behind him; he could not afford risking another creature catastrophe on this trip. He was here to better his relationship with a particular Auror, not damage it by cavorting around New York looking for wayward beasts. 

She stopped at the door to the potting shed and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and smiling. 

Dougal had moved so quickly into the shed upon hearing Tina’s footsteps, Newt didn’t even have time to speak a greeting to the creature before TIna found her hand entangled with the Demiguise’s. 

“Dougal!” She said, clearly pleased to see him again. “Have you been taking care of Newt on his adventures?” She followed along as the silver haired creature tugged her out of the shed and into the charmed evening light of the case, moving her towards the new enclosures as if to introduce her to Newt’s newest children.

Confident in Dougal’s abilities to keep Tina out of harm’s way, Newt began preparing evening meals for his creatures. 

He listened to her voice as it carried softly through the case. She was carrying on a very one sided conversation with Dougal full of questions about the new creatures. He couldn’t help but grin to himself each time she said “I suppose that’s in the book, too. I should just look it up.” to answer one of her own questions. 

He loaded the wheel barrow with the food for the Erumpent and the Ashwinder and Graphorn. The Nundu’s and Fwooper’s feeds were kept closer to their enclosures as to make his rounds a bit quicker. The Occamies and Bowtruckles and Mooncalves would be fed last since they were closest to the potting shed and efficiency was key with this many creatures and only one caregiver. 

He managed to catch glimpses of Tina and Dougal as he moved through the case feeding his creatures. The two appeared to be quite content with each other, walking hand in hand. Tina found herself stopped in front of the Mooncalf habitat with the creatures along the fence line begging for her attention _just_ as Newt came by with the food. 

Newt reached for the buckets of pellets and went to sidle past her into the enclosure. Her hand on his arm gave him pause. 

“Can I help?” She had helped him feed the gentle creatures when they had all accompanied Newt into the case on his first visit to New York and he couldn’t fight the memory of her reaching out and gently scratching one of the most shy mooncalves behind her ears, making instant friends with the creature. 

“Of course.” He held the pail while she scooped handfuls and tossed them to the warbling creatures. 

As the pail dwindled closer to empty, she noticed her shy-friend at the back of the herd. She gently shooed the other mooncalves out of the way, whispering to them that they had each had their share as she slipped by them. She crouched closer to the smallest of the calves, the runt whom she had befriended. 

_This was when I lost myself to her last time,_ he thought to himself. The image of the beautiful, kind woman crouched next to his Mooncalf, making sure the smallest of the herd had a fair portion of their meal, in the same way that he, himself, would have done, was one he would hold close to his heart. _I suspect if this is what falling in love feels like as an adult, then I’m quite gone already._

“Everyone in the case seems quite taken with you,” he said as the last pellet was nibbled from her palm.

Tina rose, wiping her hands on her pants and feeling color rush to her cheeks from his compliment. 

“Your creatures are just as wonderful as last time,” she replied. “I’m quite taken with them, too.” 

She gave her Mooncalf friend one last scratch under its chin before stepping out of the enclosure and lifting the handles on the wheelbarrow, much to Newt’s surprise. 

He placed the now empty pail in the wheelbarrow and motioned as if to relieve her of the load, but she rolled her eyes. _A thoroughly modern and capable woman,_ he mused.

“Only two more and we’ll be done,” he said apologetically, leading the way down the ramp and back towards the shed. 

“Please don’t rush on my account.” Tina remembered where the wheelbarrow had been parked when they entered the case and returned it to the same spot. 

She found a grassy patch near the Wiggentree and folded herself down onto the ground.  
Tina felt a warmth creep in near her hip and she blinked as Dougal made himself visible again, leaning against her to cuddle. 

“We need to get you a hairbrush, Dougal,” she said, finger combing some of the larger snarls out of his hair. 

Newt stepped out from the shed, fruit in one hand and a shiny coin in the other. “Though I’m not shocked to learn hairbrushes are hard to find in this case,” she said loud enough for Newt to hear her but her voice heavy with joviality so he wouldn’t take offense. 

“I own one, thank you,” he replied, dropping the coin into the waiting palms of the Niffler. “It’s just rather pointless.” 

Due to his lanky frame, when Newt squatted then shifted to sit next to her on the grass, the motion seemed an odd mixture of graceful and awkward. It was a quality of motion Tina was quickly realizing she associated directly with Newt Scamander. 

“Demiguises usually have their fur groomed by their mate. They rarely groom themselves.” 

Tina made a sad face in Dougal’s direction, scratching between his shoulders gently. “What’s your excuse then?” she teased, glancing at the unruly mop on Newt’s head before winking. 

“Aside from my mother, you’re the first woman to comment on the state of my hair. So I suppose my excuse is the same as Dougal’s: No mate.” 

“Poor excuse, Mr. Scamander.” Tina chuckled and moved her hand from scratching Dougal to move Newt’s bangs out of his eyes. 

He ducked his head to hide his blush as soon as her fingers left his hair. 

Newt stretched his arm across them both, extending the bowl of fruit towards Dougal. 

Dougal’s brow furrowed as he frowned at Newt and looked pointedly at Tina. 

“Ah, yes. Where are my manners?” His tone was highly amused tone. “Dougal reminds me that I should offer you some fruit, as well.” 

She reached out and selected a small orange. “Thank you, Dougal, and thank you, Newt.” 

The Demiguise took the bowl, now one orange lighter, and loped of towards his hanging pod. 

Tina split the skin on the orange and began to pull the peel off, leaving a small pile of peels on the ground beside her. She pulled off a segment of orange and held it out to Newt.

They spent a few moments in silence sharing the orange, Tina leaning back on her elbows to watch the enchanted sunset through the Wiggentree branches. 

“I think, if I could, I would camp here. Just sleep under your enchanted stars. It’s never this quiet in New York.”

“Sometimes it isn’t quiet. If the Erumpent is in season, she makes quite a racket. Sometimes that Niffler likes to clank coins in the middle of the night. I suspect he does it just to wake me up,” he chuckled, scooping up the orange peels and feeding them absently to a knarl who had eased its way out of the brush. “But the rest of the time it is rather lovely.”

“Do you get to spend many nights down here?” she asked. The sunset was heading into the deepest colors, fading to a rich midnight blue at the highest point of the enchanted sky. Tina craned her neck, trying to see if the magical stars mirrored the ones in the real sky above her apartment building. 

“It is far more accommodating than sleeping in a tent if I’m out in the wilderness studying a new creature,” he said. “But if I’m in a boarding house then I do try to sleep in the bed; just in case the maid walks in. It’s quite hard to explain how I suddenly appeared out of a suitcase.” 

Tina smiled, realizing that it must have happened more than once. She could only imagine Newt trying to talk himself out of that situation and the amusement made her bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing aloud. 

It was a few more brief moments before he spoke again. “I wouldn’t do that, you know.” 

Tina’s brow furrowed as she tore her gaze from the sky to look at him. His eyes were downcast and his voice had been very soft, almost reluctant to speak. 

“What?”

“I wouldn’t just stop writing. I wouldn’t do that. Not to you.” 

“I-” 

He interrupted and Tina recognized the rushed speech for what it was; a huge case of nerves. 

“Your letters were ... I quite enjoyed the correspondence,” he said, fiddling with a remaining piece of Orange peel as he spoke. “More than enjoyed. It became a part of my routine that I craved.” 

“Me, too,” she managed to sneak in while he took a stilling breathe. 

“I’m sorry if I made you think that-”

Tina took her turn to interrupt. “You weren’t obligated to write, Newt. I presumed and I shouldn’t have.” 

“No-” 

“No.” she cut him off again, more forceful with her tone, but still remaining polite. “Your priorities were your manuscript. We hadn’t spent much time together when you left but I still found myself depending on your letters and that wasn’t fair to you.” 

He nodded, still staring at the mangled piece of orange peel in his fingers. “Perhaps those weren’t the right priorities for me to have, though.”

“What? Newt!” she chided. “That book is your dream!” 

“But what good is a dream without someone to share it with?” He muttered, his words barely audible. 

Had she not been two feet from him, Tina likely would have missed it entirely. But she did hear it. And the words knocked the breath out of her. She raised herself off her elbows and took a brief moment to steady the whirlwind of thoughts. _Queenie would know what to say._ She sighed and rolled her eyes at her insecurities, deciding that action was the better part of valor. She extended her hand and closed her fingers over his, effectively stilling the fidgeting.

Tina felt his hands tense under her touch and she waited patiently the several heartbeats it took for him to lift his gaze and meet hers. 

“Thank you.” 

“For what?” he whispered. 

She smiled. “For trusting me enough to show me all of this,” she gestured around the case. “Trusting me with all of _you_ \- the you that you put in your letters,” she said, squeezing her fingers over his. “Thank you.” 

He managed to unclench his fingers from the remains of the orange peel and steeled his nerves enough to turn his hand up under hers, closing his fingers over her own. He sent her a gentle squeeze in reply. “Thank you for caring.” 

Tina grinned and stood, but did not release his hand. Instead she tugged him until he, too, rose, and she pulled them both back towards the potting shed. 

“Any other creatures who need feeding, Mr. Scamander?” With one final squeeze of her fingers she released his grip. 

He shook his head, his ginger curls bouncing with the motion. 

“I bet Queenie’s home by now,” Tina smiled and dusted off the back of her pants with her hands. “Maybe tomorrow she can take you to Jacob’s bakery?” 

She headed up the stairs to the top of the case and couldn’t help but smile as Newt reached over her shoulder with his wand to unlock the case from the inside. Tina tucked her hair behind her ear, freeing up her peripheral vision on the right and affording her a view of Newt’s befreckled face- sporting grin just as pleased as her own.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot express how much I enjoy the reviews. Thank you all.

Tina tugged her dressing gown closed around her and padded silently out of the bedroom. Queenie’s gentle snores faded as the doors slid closed. 

The form on the couch shifted and Tina jumped back. “Oh! Newt!” she clutched her chest and somehow managed to keep her voice near a whisper so as to not wake Queenie. 

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered, his own voice hoarse from fatigue. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Have you been up all this time?” she asked, seeing the clock over the mantel display two a.m. 

He nodded, shuffling one of her letters in his hands. “I got started on a few and couldn’t stop.” 

Tina blushed. She turned and slipped towards the stove. She flicked her wand at the kettle, charming the water to instantly boil. She pulled two cups off their shelf and set them on the table, letting the enchanted kettle fill them with steaming water. Tea bags joined the mix along with honey in each cup and just a splash of milk for Newt.

When she re-entered the living area she settled next to him on the couch and passed him the cup. 

He glanced at the beverage, fully expecting coffee. Instead the tea bag and milky liquid caused him to arch a brow at Tina who merely shrugged. 

He sipped the beverage and pulled away from the cup, his face clearly shocked. “You remembered the honey.” 

“Aurors are supposed to be observant,” she shrugged off the implied compliment, having remembered his one breakfast in their apartment before his return passage so many months ago. “Queenie was pleased to see you! Sounds like she’s got your whole day tomorrow planned out while I’m at work.” 

“Mostly glad to see me, I’d say,” he said. “I did get a good scolding about these letters. I’m so sorry I didn’t get these.”

Tina shrugged. “It wasn’t on purpose. I didn’t think you’d do it on purpose. I just thought maybe I said somethin’ or maybe you were busy with someone over there.” Her tone made it clear that the _someone_ over there would have been a woman. 

“No,” he whispered. “There’s no one else. My time was devoted to my manuscript and my creatures and, well, you.” Newt lifted a letter casually. “It was nice. I came home from the market each day and fed my creatures. Dougal and Picket would want to hear about your last letter. Then I’d sit to work on my manuscript for a while. Usually when Dougal would remind me about lunch, I’d break and write you a reply.” 

“After work. At first, once a week and then every night,” Tina said, referencing her own correspondence schedule. “It was nice to have something to look forward to. I got to hear about your day and tell you about mine. And there was no Legilimency involved,” she chuckled. “Kinda a rare thing in my life to be able to have to write everything down, not have it just plucked from your head.” 

“I owe you quite a debt for your correspondence. I’m not the most organized when it comes to my manuscript schedule. I didn’t get a chance to become distracted since your letters set me to a routine. Truly, I don’t know that I’d have finished the book without your letters each day.” 

“I’m sure you would have,” she said simply. She sipped her tea, giving herself a moment to find the words she wanted. “A few of those last letters aren’t very polite.”

“I-”

She shook her head. “No excuse. I was upset and I handled it badly. I’m real sorry.” 

Newt sat silently for a moment, setting the letter and tea cup down on the table and leaning forward to scrub his face with his hands. “We didn’t get to spend much time together when I was here the first time,” he said. “Not _real_ time. We were too busy running through the streets chasing creatures or escaping from, well, everything, really. We didn’t know each other.”

She nodded. 

“Your letters were almost as if I got to spend the day with you. You took the time to tell me about yourself, about your sister, even about your favorite flower,” he said, referencing one of her letters which had never made it to the post. “You allowed me a chance to get to know you in a way that circumstances prevented before. Please don’t think I’m not aware of what an honor that is.”

Tina turned a bit on the sofa, angling her body towards him. She tucked her feet up and propped one elbow on the back of the couch. “I liked hearing about Water Dragons. I liked hearing about your plans for visiting Scotland, even if it did make me want to quit MACUSA and smuggle away in your case for adventure. I love being an Auror, ya know? But I think someday, before I die, I want to do more,” she took a sip of her tea as Newt shifted to tilt his body a bit more towards hers, almost mirroring her posture. “But I think the best part was learning about you. You’re the real you on those pages.”

“I’m not real right now?” he asked, an eyebrow arching. 

She rolled her eyes. “You’re more confident in your words when you put them on paper,” she said, hoping not to offend him. “You’re much more forward. In a good way.” 

“There’s a good way to be forward?” he questioned.

“Yeah. There is.” She felt her cheeks heat with a blush when she grinned. “It’s kinda charming.” 

“That’s possibly the first time that word’s ever been applied to me,” he said, with a self deprecating half chuckle. “That was always my brother’s forte. I’d rather be out playing with the Hippogriffs than off at a cotillion.”

With a final sip, she finished her tea and rested the cup on the table behind the sofa with a negligent hand. “Not much different from the Goldstein girls then. Queenie was always the one happy to get dressed up and go dancin’. I’d rather go run and play Quidditch or somethin’. Dressing up just....” she paused, wrinkling her nose in discomfort. “It just feels like I look like a loon, ya know?” 

“Yes. Quite.” he replied before his eyes widened when he realized he had implied she looked horrible when ‘dressed up’ - which was far from his opinion of her finery when they went to The Blind Pig on his last visit. “Not that you look like a loon. No. I’ve met loons- they’re quite loud and ugly when they want to be. I understand about dressing up and...” he stopped himself out of sheer humiliation and managed to take stock of her features.

_Amused, not irate. Well. That’s good, I suppose. Better than it could be. Newton, when will you learn to think before you speak?_

He cleared his throat and tried desperately to find some bravery. “What I meant was that you looked absolutely ravishing when we went to the speakeasy. Any man would feel honored to have such a stunning woman on their arm. Though I’m probably biased as I do find you quite charming all of the time- not just when you wear beaded dresses...” His voice trailed off and he felt his cheeks flame with blush. 

Tina couldn’t swallow the chuckle anymore and let a very small laugh eek out. “Thank you,” she merely replied. “That’s very kind of you.” 

“It’s all quite true.” He cleared his throat again. “But - I do understand feeling as if you’re in a costume and playing a part.” 

“Did you have to do that much as a child? Dress up for things?”

He shrugged. “On occasion. Theseus was happy to fill that role for my parents’ social needs so often my father wouldn’t notice if I left a party after a token amount of time.” 

“And you went outside to find creatures, I bet.” 

He nodded. “My mother bred Hippogriffs. There were always one or two who wouldn’t mind if I hid out in their stall until the party died away.” 

“I’ve never met a Hippogriff.”

“Perhaps when you visit London, I could introduce you to one?” 

“ _When_ I visit London?” She asked, smiling. 

He shrugged. “If you’re ever able. I’d be happy to repay the debt of hospitality. There are several guest rooms at my parent’s house and I think you’d be quite comfortable. Queenie, too, of course.” 

Tina rolled her eyes and sighed. “Queenie might have to go _live_ in London if Rappaport’s law isn’t repealed and she continues to pursue Jacob.” 

“They’re that serious already?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to know. It’s too hard at work to lie to cover for her so it’s just best if I don’t know much until I _have_ to.” Tina shrugged. 

Newt scoffed. “Your muggle laws are quite ridiculous.” 

Her brown hair bobbed as she nodded. “Yeah. Queenie’s always been real friendly with fellas, you know? She goes dancing and to the pictures and always has a nice time. But I’ve never seen her like this before. I think she really loves him. I think... I think she’s going to have to make a choice and it scares me a little.” 

“Because you might lose your sister?” Newt inquired. 

“Yeah,” she sniffled. “And because if she doesn’t smarten up, she’s going to have MACUSA all over her for getting caught stepping out with a No-Maj ... and by then it might be too late for her to move.” 

“If something happens... if she can get to London, I will make sure she’s taken care of,” he said simply.

Tina cocked her head slightly and smiled softly at him. “Thank you. That’s very generous.” She let her hand reach forward and drowsily sweep his bangs out of his face. “I want her to be happy. I just wish she hadn’t fallen for someone the law says she can’t have.” 

Newt’s hand slipped up deftly gripped hers before it retreated back into her own personal space. His fingers were gentle around hers, offering her every opportunity to pull her hand away. 

“What about you?” 

“Hmm?” Tina was entirely distracted by the sensation of his calloused palm against her skin and had only half registered his question. 

“You?” he prompted. “Are you happy?”

_I am right this minute,_ she thought. She let her fingers drape over his own, closing the grip. She felt his thumb ever so gently start to brush the back of her hand - it was as light as a butterfly’s wing and Tina wasn’t sure if he was testing her comfort zone or his own bravery. 

“You know, I wasn’t when I woke up yesterday,” she said softly, feeling his hand tense ever so slightly. “There’s this fella that I’ve been writing to and he just kinda stopped writing.”

She fell back to their occasional references to each other in the third person. It felt safer, sometimes, to speak about him instead of to him. Not as personal. Not as close. 

“He did?” Newt’s voice was a low almost-whisper. 

“Yeah. I was pretty put balled up about it for a while. It made for some really bad days.” She ever so subtly began to trace a gentle pattern on the back of his hand, trying to move in time with the hesitant caresses of his thumb against her hand. “Turns out he had a good reason for disappearing. I got a first-edition of his book hand-delivered!”

“Book or no book, he sounds like a horrible man. Anyone who gives you a bad day-” 

“Nah. He’s got a heart of gold,” she interrupted. “He’s just really bad at planning his trans-Atlantic trips.” Tina winked. 

Newt suddenly felt a yawn he was unable to stifle. The quietness of the moment slid away as he struggled to hide his fatigue. “I beg your pardon,” he said muttered behind the hand covering his mouth. 

The clock ticked past four and Tina’s eyes widened as she looked at the time. “Merlin’s Beard,” she profaned. “I didn’t mean to keep you up so late. You’ve had such a long day, Newt. I’m so sorry!” 

His fingers closed on her hand as she rose from the couch and moved to step away. He held fast and his heart pounded. “I’m not sorry,” he said. “I thoroughly enjoyed this.” 

“Newt?” She squared her shoulders and silently apologized to her deceased mother for every courting rule she was about to break while simultaneously praying that she wouldn’t look a fool. “Tomorrow, after work, I think Queenie and Jacob are going to go for a walk in the park and then dancing. Would you like to maybe join them for the walk and then take in a picture?” 

He blinked and blinked again and felt his mouth slacken open. 

The silence was deafening. Her hand wilted in his and just as her fingers started to retreat from his grip, he found himself. “Yes.” It was firm and simple and sure. 

Tina nodded and grinned the same enchanting grin he received that day on the docks. He released her fingers gently. 

She eyed the two dirty teacups with a dismissive sigh realizing they’d still be dirty in the morning and she had no desire to wash dishes at four a.m. She padded over to the bedroom she shared with Queenie and slipped through the sliding doors. 

“Newt?” she whispered, peeking her head around the door. “Go to sleep!” 

His delighted but bashful smile was the perfect image to fall asleep to for Tina Goldstein. 

 

~~


	12. Chapter 12

“Ya know, if it was anyone other than Newt, I’d tell ya to play angry longer,” Queenie whispered, leaning towards her sister’s ear as they walked a few steps behind their dates on the path through Central Park. 

“If it was anyone other than Newt, I would _still_ be angry,” Tina replied with a grimace. “I don’t need to be a Legilimens to know it wasn’t on purpose, Queenie.” 

“Ain’t that the truth. He was just in such a mad rush to get here he lost his good sense.”

Thoughts rushed through Tina’s head but she somehow managed to keep her mouth shut- not that it mattered much with her sister. Still don’t know why he did that. _Maybe he wasn’t rushing to see me- just to hand off the book and go out to Arizona or something since he didn’t make it last time._

“You’re a nut,” Queenie whispered, having caught each of the thoughts and known them to be untrue. “Ask him, Teenie. If you’re not sure by now, just ask him.”

“Ask who what?” Jacob turned around, he and Newt walking a few steps ahead of their dates. Jacob had taken the opportunity to educate Newt on the No-Maj method for a bank loan and subsequent bakery design and opening. 

Newt stepped aside on the path and allowed the sisters to catch up. He fell into step with Tina, his hands behind his back as if afraid to touch her. 

Queenie fell in stride next to Jacob, slipping her arms through his and leaving nary a strip of daylight between their frames as they walked. Jacob did not appear to mind this invasion of his space in the least. 

Tina tilted her head and regarded Newt. _Not now, Queenie. Later. I’ll ask later._

“Never you mind,” Queenie acquiesced, patting Jacob’s shoulder. “So, Newt, what picture are you two goona to see?” 

“I didn’t ask,” not understanding Jacob’s giant eye roll. This was clearly some etiquette breach he wasn’t aware of. 

Tina smirked. “The Sea Beast is showing at the Palace Theatre tonight. It sounded like something he’d enjoy.” 

Grateful for the evening sky, Newt felt his cheeks color slightly at the attention. It wasn’t often that someone would plan an evening’s outing based on _his_ preferences. 

“Ooh,” Queenie squealed. “One of the girls in the permit office saw that last week and said it was really good for a No-Maj movie!” 

“Maybe we’ll go next week, huh, gorgeous?” Jacob interjected. 

“We’ll let you know how it is,” Tina said, glancing at her watch. “Best burn some shoe leather if we’re going to make it in time!” she said as she settled a hand on Newt’s shoulder and gently steered him off a different path through the park, waving over her shoulder at her sister as they parted.

~~

“That was ... I don’t know that I have words,” Newt stuttered.

“Barbaric, comes to mind,” Tina replied as they headed away from the theatre and back towards her apartment. 

“Quite,” he said, shaking his head as if to rid himself of those images. 

“Times have changed.” Tina half-smirked. “Before meeting you, I don’t know that I would have considered poor whale’s feelings.”

His brow furrowed as he regarded her. “I don’t think that’s true, Ms. Goldstein,” he said, getting a mocking look at him before he realized he had slipped back to her formal name. “Tina. You have quite the gentle heart and are empathetic to all creatures. You just had some prior business to clear up last year that got in the way of you understanding my reason for travel,” he grinned to lighten the words.

“‘Prior business’? Is that what we’re calling the mess I made with the Barebones children and then my career? You’re too kind.” She swatted his shoulder and suddenly found her hand caught by his and being pulled to a stop. 

“Stop,” Newt’s voice was firm. “Please stop.”

They stood on the street facing each other, her hand clenched in his. 

“I don’t much care for you being so hard on yourself,” he finally said. “You stood up for something smaller than you; something with no voice, no ability to speak for themselves. That is admirable- _NOT_ a mess.” 

“Newt-”

“No!” There was no room for argument in his voice. “No. You put yourself at risk - repeatedly - to help someone who was hurting. You risked your own livelihood and your safety. And it is admirable! It is strength!” his voice finally wavered slightly and his fingers loosened on her own. “It is rather charming.” 

Tina allowed her lips to curl into a small smile and knew her cheeks to be pink from his praise.

“Sounds alot like you’re describing yourself, Mr. Scamander,” she said, her voice only slightly teasing. “Protector of beasts big and small, speaks for creatures who can’t speak for themselves. You stepped between an Obscurial and Grindlewald to protect a boy the world had overlooked. And you risked the failure of your career to stand up for what you believe in... and to save the same person who put you at risk in the first place.”

She tightened her fingers on his, not letting him pull his hand away now that the tables had been turned. “You’re right,” she continued, stepping slightly closer to him. “It is quite charming.” She watched the subtle color change to his cheeks thanks to the lamplight. 

Tina resumed her spot at his side but did not release his hand, only barely loosening her grip in case she was truly misreading him. She took a step, ever so gently tugging him along next to her until his stride began to match hers again. His hand did not waiver. He did not pull away. 

This was not her forte; men were not her forte. Understanding the intentions of a man was not something that life had given her much practice with and certainly no innate ability. 

They rounded the final corner to her block and Tina slipped ever so closer to Newt as they walked, closing the gap between their bodies just a hair. He didn’t budge, silently allowing her into his space. 

“Newt?”

“Mm? Yes?” He sounded as if she had startled him out of some intense concentration. 

“When are you leaving for Arizona?”

“I’m sorry?”

“When are you leaving?”

“Arizona?” He paused and his gait stuttered slightly. “I... I’m not sure I understand. Have I overstayed my welcome? I’m terribly sorry-” 

“No!” she exclaimed. “You just haven’t said anything about what’s next on your agenda for your trip here. I assumed you were going to Arizona to visit Frank.” 

“I had only one thing on my agenda,” he said softly, his eyes flicking between the safety of the ground and glancing ahead as to ensure he wouldn’t walk into anything. “I’ve delivered your book. I have no other plans.” 

“You...” Tina’s voice trailed off as she imagined Queenie’s _‘I told you so’_ laughter. “You came just for that? Just to give me the book?”

“Yes.”

Tina sighed a deep, pausing sigh and closed her eyes for a step before squeezing his hand in hers and tugging his hand to her chest, pulling him closer and effectively tightening the gap between their sides. 

“That’s also charming,” she whispered, knowing his ears would catch her words. 

She guided them to the alley next to the brownstone and he stepped slightly closer. With a distinct POP they vanished, apparating up to her apartment and avoiding any risk of Mrs. Esposito and her ridiculous house rules. 

Newt found his hand feeling quite lonely and bare when she finally released it now that they were in her home. 

She pulled her coat off and hung it and her hat on her typical hook. She reached out to take his coat from him only to find that he hadn’t moved and was, in fact, alternating his stare between the ground and his now empty hand. 

Tina stepped in front of him and raised an eyebrow until she managed to catch his gaze. She reached up and quite tentatively slipped her hands along his collar, lifting the blue coat up and back until he abashedly caught the hint and helped shrug himself out of the garment. 

When his coat was next to hers on the hook, she moved away and toed off her shoes as she walked towards her bedroom. “Do you need to feed your creatures?” she asked, ducking into her bedroom and only pulling the door partially shut so she could still speak with him. 

“Queenie helped before met you for our walk this evening. Pickett was quite tickled with his gift,” he said, ensuring his back was towards her door- not as if he could see through the wood anyway. He held his hands behind his back and his eyes gazing ceiling ward, clearly uncomfortable with the knowledge that she was possibly changing out of her work attire just yards from him. 

“Do you think he’ll use it?” She called. “I wasn’t sure he would since he’s pretty much claimed you as his preferred tree and I don’t suspect you’re going to hang a swing from your arm - even for Pickett.” 

“I suspect it would get in the way when I fed the Fwooper,” he replied, always practical. “We put the swing on the Wiggentree. I hope he finds it as generous of a gift as I did.” 

The sound of the bedroom door sliding open caught his attention and it took all his power not to spin around like a school boy.

She moved towards the kitchen, wrapped in the same night robe she had worn the evening before. Her pajama pants poked out the bottom of the robe, soft blue in color, and her feet were covered by a very old, very tattered pair of colorful socks.

Tina flicked her wand around, repeating the same steps from the night before, brewing tea for them both. 

When the cups were ready, she levitated them out to the coffee table, the lights in the kitchen dimming automatically when she left. She and Queenie weren’t much on wasting electricity; two girls on a budget had to be frugal wherever they could and charming the electric lights into dimming when someone left a room was an easy fix. 

Tina noticed he was still in his waist coat with his sleeves buttoned to the cuff and she looked down at her own casual attire. “I... I’m sorry, Newt. I was just so ready to be out of my work clothes; it was such a long day. Is this inappropriate?”

Newt shook his head. “No. Not at all. It is _your_ home.”

“But you’re still-” she gestured to his waist coat and felt horribly out of place even in her own sitting room. Worse was her desire to not make him feel bad. “Let me go change.”

“Tina,” he said softly, reaching out and gently capturing her arm. “I’d prefer if you didn’t. Please.”

His hand dropped and he unbuttoned his waist coat, draping it over the arm of the sofa. Tina felt her breath catch every so slightly at the newness of watching him shed a layer- no matter how tame that might be. 

He unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up, looking much more like the Newt Scamander who felt supremely at home in his case. And now he looked as if he felt supremely at home in her home- and Tina wanted exactly that. 

He settled into the corner of the couch and sipped his tea, replacing the mug on the coffee table. Tina stood next to him, nerves taking control of her features. 

“Can I ask you a favor?” 

He didn’t have to think before answer. “Anything.”

She reached into her dressing gown pocket. “Would you read with me a while?” How she managed to find the audacity to ask him for such a thing, she’d never know.

But there she stood, holding the brown-paper and string wrapped package he had given her just the day before in front of the deli. And he sat there agog. 

“That’s probably too much to ask. Just forget-”

He closed his fingers around the package and pulled it towards him, effectively pulling her onto the couch when she didn’t release her grip on the book. 

“You haven’t opened it yet.”

Tina just shook her head. “I hate unwrapping presents on Hanukkah, too,” she uttered. “It makes it seem like the magic is over once the wrapping’s off. Queenie says it’s my one impractical indulgence.” 

He held the book and she untied the string, the brown paper falling to the floor. She shifted closer on the couch, her hip touching his. 

The crimson leather glistened in the dim lighting of the apartment and Tina ran her fingers over the gold lettering. 

“You used my title?”

“It was perfect,” he merely replied. “There was no better option to be thought of.” 

Tina looked up at him and just shook her head in wonder. 

“You’re something else,” she whispered. _This is going to be the most humiliating moment of my life if you’re wrong, Queenie,_ Tina thought just as she made the impulsive decision to trust her relatively non-existent instincts regarding men.

She twisted her body slightly so that she was facing slightly away from him and settled her feet on the sofa, old, comfortable, colorful socks so vibrant against her normally subdued attire. Tina leaned back ever so slightly to settle sideways against Newt as if he were the armrest of the couch. 

She flipped through the opening pages of the book negligently and, as she flipped past the dedication and introduction, she felt him finally relax and shift his body to more comfortably accommodate hers. 

He sighed. It was a deep sigh and she felt his body unknot even further and his arm slide so slowly off the back of the sofa and creep toward her shoulder. 

_Ok. Ok. So she wasn’t wrong,_ Tina thought about her absent sister. _Goona have to apologize tomorrow for doubting her._ Her lips twitched up into a small smile as she reached the first creature. 

_“Acromantula,”_ she read through the creature’s habitat and cringed at the description of numerous fangs and pincers. 

“He sounds terrifying,” she when she finished. Her finger ghosted over the detailed sketch. “But your drawing makes them look almost friendly.”

“I’ve met a few who are friendly to humans but most have learned that we are a rather destructive and violent species best avoided.”

Tina chuckled. “Can’t argue with that.” She passed him the book, already open to the next page. “Your turn.” 

His surprise was clear and she found herself waiting patiently while he composed himself before he cleared his throat and began. 

_“Ashwinder....”_

The changing timbre of their voices filled the apartment until Tina’s long-day caught up with her and she found her eyes lulled shut by the caress of his voice as he spoke about the creatures he loved most. 

He noticed her weary form shift slightly, curling more closely towards him and using his shoulder as a pillow and resting a hand on his chest. Newt tugged a knit throw off the back of the couch and over her body. He neglected to put his hand back near the top of the sofa. He neglected to remain true to his gentlemanly ways and he ignored propriety and gave in to the desire to hug her to him. He was unable to keep himself from being drawn into her orbit. His head tilted and he allowed himself one brief moment of vulnerability, resting his cheek on the top of her head while reading the section on the Romanian Longhorn Dragon, his voice delicately soft. Tina’s breathing deepened as he cuddled her to him and she was lulled into sleep. 

Newt rest the open book on his own lap and propped his feet on the coffee table. He closed his eyes and merely absorbed the sense of peace he felt in that moment, not realizing that sleep was stealthily coaxing him along, as well. 

And that is exactly how Queenie found them when she slipped into the apartment, just before dawn: Tina’s head pillowed on Newt’s shoulder and her hand over his heart. His cheek on her head and his book in his lap. 

It was, Queenie thought, the most beautiful sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 13 is written.
> 
> Chapter 14 refuses to be written. I'm sorry. Unless something miraculous happens in the next 20 minutes, I would expect a posting delay for future chapters. :(


	13. Chapter 13

~~

 

The caress of sunlight on her face had gently stirred Tina awake. She shifted against the warm body under her hand and against her side and the events of the previous night caused her to blush. The last time she had fallen asleep next to a fella was a few years after Ilvermorny, when she had just been exploring the delicate balance between adulthood and still-parenting her younger sister. 

It had been a while. And Tina had forgotten how pleasant it could be to sleep in the safe embrace of someone you trusted and cared for. 

Newt’s chest rose and fell, still deep in slumber. She managed to extricate herself from his hold without waking him and tiptoed into her bedroom to find Queenie having already started her morning dressing routine. 

“Good mornin’, sugar,” Queenie bit her lip trying to keep from giggling at her sister’s abashed look. 

Tina just stared her sister down until the strawberry-blonde turned back to her mirror and finished setting her locks with a wave of her wand. 

“Teenie,” Queenie started, turning to her sister with nothing but honesty on her face. “You look good. Like you slept real well. I know that hasn’t happened since...the subway.” 

Tina shrugged in agreement, easing behind the dressing screen and changing out of her pajamas and into a pair of trousers. 

She hadn’t slept well lately. Her nights were plagued with nightmares on bad nights or merely intense and vivid dreams on good nights. She woke up in cold sweats or gasping for Newt or Credence. 

“I don’t think I’ve slept through the night since then,” Tina admitted, stepping out from around the screen and reaching for the hair brush. Wands worked, of course, but sometimes the monotony and rhythm of the No-Maj methods settled her mind. And she knew on this morning that her mind was spinning after last night. 

Queenie’s gaze snapped to the living room and her eyes widened slightly. “He’s up. And he’s ... Oh boy,” Queenie frowned and bit her lip. “You two should have breakfast together. I’m goona head to Jacob’s to get a pastry.” Queenie took one glance at herself in the mirror, making sure she hadn’t missed any of her normal morning ritual, and flicked her wand, apparating to the alley behind the apartment building. 

Tina rolled her eyes, wishing that her sister had offered her more insight into whatever was happening in the living room rather than just a slightly panicked face and a quick getaway. 

She slid the door to the bedroom open and found Newt scrubbing the sleep off his face. 

“Morning,” she said gently. 

Newt glanced up only to firmly drive his gaze back towards the floor. “Hello.”

“Did you sleep well? That couch isn’t always the most comfortable,” she asked, having fallen asleep many nights with a book on those very cushions. 

“Yes. Quite well. Thank you,” he refused to meet her eyes. 

“Are eggs and toast ok for breakfast?” she asked, knowing the dialogue was slightly more domestically inclined than she had planned. 

He didn’t meet her eyes. “I, uh, need to feed my creatures.” 

“Ok,” Tina said, frowning at him as he rushed towards his case. “I’ll have breakfast ready when you’re done?” 

He muttered something unintelligible as he stepped down into the case and pulled the lid closed behind him. 

_Not at all what I expected,_ she thought to herself, starting the flame on the stove. She found morning ritual of cooking the No-Maj way, or as close to it as she could tolerate, soothing and usually a delightful start to the morning in the Goldstein house. This morning she’d need the soothing more than usual, she felt. 

~~

She had applied a warming charm to his plate of food and his cup of tea twice, each time growing more irritated at his absence from the table. 

She had helped with chores before. This was an excessively long period of time to spend feeding his creatures. Unless something had gone horribly wrong in that case, he was just avoiding her and using the case as an excuse. 

Tina’s brain tripped over the thought of something having happened in the case and she felt the impulse to stand and enter the leather enclosure. Just as her chair slid away from the table, she heard the latches on the case unsnap from the inside. 

He poked his head out of the case and when he laid eyes on her, Tina would have bet money he had hoped she had left for work already. 

But he cleared his features like a well-schooled gentleman and finished his ascent from the case, latching it firmly behind him. 

“Is everyone well?” Tina asked, rising from her chair and flicking her wand at her used dishes, cleaning them and them sending them back to their respective spots on the shelves. 

“Yes,” he muttered, finding the floor a delightful thing to stare at. 

“I’m sorry that I can’t stay while you eat,” she said, gesturing to his plate. “I have to get to work.” 

“Thank you for breakfast,” he said, moving to stand opposite from her at the table, using the expanse of wood to keep distance between them. 

Tina felt the sting of the simple act but she managed to keep her face neutral, moving towards the coat rack. 

“I’ll see you after work?” She grabbed her coat off the hook and began to pull it on. 

“Ms- Uh, Ms. Goldstein,” he stuttered. “I feel as if I owe you a deep apology for my behavior last night. I overstepped good manners and beg your pardon. Upon reflection this morning I believe your suggestion of visiting Arizona would be an appropriate use of my stay in America. I would like to thank you and Queenie for your hospitality - especially since my arrival was unexpected. My behavior; dropping in uninvited, a seat at your supper table and then - um- last night.... I am quite embarrassed at my own lack of decorum. I deeply apologize and ... well... I’ll be heading to Arizona promptly. I should not be here upon your return from work.” 

Tina’s emotions ran quickly from surprise to remorse to anger as he spoke. She tried to steady her breath and still her temper but it was a battle she knew she was going to lose. 

“Nothing happened last night you need to apologize for,” she said firmly, trying to speak to his fears. “And Queenie and I are happy to have you here as long as you’d like.”

“That’s very polite of you,” he shook his head in disagreement. “But I was quite inappropriate and-” 

“Fine.” Tina interrupted, her temper suddenly at its limit. She threw up her hands in frustration, her light blue hat, still tucked firmly in her grasp, waving through the air; she finally managing to catch his gaze. “You know what, Newt? Go to Arizona. But go to Arizona because you want to. Not because you feel that you’ve violated some-,” she flailed her hands again, looking for the right words and knowing emotion was tainting her usually calm demeanor. “Some eighteenth century view on propriety and gentlemanly behavior that demands that you should run and hide for the sake of my honor!” 

He had the good sense to look somewhat abashed. 

“Go to Arizona, Newt,” she whispered. “I’ve got to go to work.” 

Newt cringed at the sound of the door slamming behind her as she stormed out. 

 

~~

The audible pop of someone apparating into a nearby alley was muffled by the general din of New York early morning road and foot traffic. 

She saw his mustard waistcoat and mentally wondered if it was the first time she’d seen him out of the house without his blue coat. 

“Why aren’t you at the train station?” she questioned, stepping around him and continuing her brisk walk to the Woolworth building. 

“I haven’t got a ticket.” 

She didn’t miss a beat or even throw a glance his way. “They sell those at the train station.” 

Newt’s hand shot out and his fingers latched onto her upper arm, finally able to slow her forward trajectory. 

“Newt,” Tina rolled her eyes. “Just go. I think that -” her next words were covered as he interrupted. 

“I’d very much like to go to Arizona, after all,” his voice quavered. “But I think I’d prefer it if you came with me.”

Tina blinked, her eyes as wide as Dougal’s. 

“We don’t have to leave today.” 

“That’s good. I have to go to work today,” she managed to mutter, still finding some snark in her repertoire to cast his way. 

“Tina, I know you take exception to eighteenth century rules of propriety, but I don’t. They provide the time to get to know someone that we need...that I need. I already trust you implicitly, but I don’t know how to...”

His voice trailed off and his fingers slipped from her arm. 

“Newt,” Tina started and felt the anger that had fueled her that morning drain off of her. This was exhausting. 

He was trying and stumbling and she didn’t have time in her morning -in her adult life- to go through this again. She needed clarity. She was not Queenie. She could not read minds. She could not charm or woo a man - nor did she want to. This was the conversation she desperately needed- though she had not intended to have it in the middle of a New York City sidewalk. 

“You saved my life last time you were here.”

“Yes.”

“You spent months corresponding with me about nothing and everything at the same time.” 

“Yes.” 

“And then you sailed across the Atlantic to bring me a book that you could have just sent with the post.”

“Yes.”

“...Without telling anyone you were leaving England.” 

“Yes.” 

“And you made no plans for your trip here other than to spend time with me.”

“That’s right.” 

“And you offered to give Queenie a place to stay in London if MACUSA comes after her.”

He nodded. 

“And we’ve walked home from the pictures holding hands.”

His cheeks colored ever so slightly. “We have.”

“And you trust me with your creatures- your children.”

“Implicitly.” 

Tina dropped her voice and stepped a wee bit closer to him, invading his space ever so slightly. “And you held me while we slept last night.” 

He opened his mouth as if to apologize but paused before he could even form the words, instead merely agreeing. “Yes.” 

She took a deep, stilling breath. “Newt, most women would consider all of those to be signs of interest....in more than friendship,” she said, knowing she was laying herself bare without shedding a single cloth.

He nodded. 

“Should _I_ interpret them that way?” 

They were surrounded by No-Maj’s on their way to work, some irritated that the two blocked a portion of the sidewalk traffic. The hustle and bustle of commuters faded away and she felt as if everyone else was merely an extra in a film and that she and Newt, for that moment, were the center of New York. 

It wasn’t true, of course. Hundreds of people traveled this sidewalk each day, trying to get into the center of town to do business. Shopkeepers stood streetside and hocked wares. They weren’t alone.

But that moment, when he could wound her with a word- just as she could him, she let it all fade back and focused on just his reply. 

For that moment, it was just the two of them. 

Newt scuffed a foot, squared his shoulders and somehow managed to meet her eyes. “Yes.”

Her shoulders relaxed slightly as he breathed out the word. “Ok,” she breathed. 

“Ok?” 

“Ok.” Tina nodded realizing that as infinitesimal as it was, this was still a forward progression. “I won’t go with you to Arizona _today._ But I would like to go visit Frank sometime soon. _Today,_ I have to get to work. But when I get home, I _hope_ you’ll be there and I hope you will tell me all about these eighteenth century rules of propriety that I’m clearly unfamiliar with-- but are apparently important to you. Ok?”

Newt nodded. “Yes.” 

“Newt,” Tina smirked and shook her head. “You’ll find in that most women like it when you use more than one word in a conversation.” She lifted a hand to his shoulder, held him in place. She quickly, but intentionally, leaned in and kissed his cheek. 

“Ms. Goldstein, I find that I have too many words,” he gripped her hand in his as she pulled away. “And not enough time to say them all to you.” 

Tina felt a cheeky little grin alight on her features. “You’re an author now, Mr. Scamander. Write them down.” she whispered, letting loose her hand from his and starting to walk backwards, towards the Woolworth building.

She disappeared into the crowd, and he knew his heart was much lighter than when he had woke that morning. 

 

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 14 appears to be the final chapter. And it is written but I want to stew on it for a day to make sure I don't want to make any edits. :) Thank you all for the comments and support.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not entirely sold on this, but I'm going with it!! Happy final chapter.

The door slammed behind her and the scowl on Tina’s face was only dampened by the swelling under her left eye. She tossed her hat on the couch and shrugged out of her coat, wincing as the motion pulled on her bruised shoulder. 

Her body rarely took this kind of beating as an Auror. A nasty curse, sure. The occasional zap with a jinx that left her feeling as if her hair was smoking? It had happened more than a few times. 

But to get run over by a fleeing suspect and knocked into a stair railing before she could aim her wand? That was rare. 

Usually if Queenie was home there was music or humming or the sizzle in the air of magic as her sister prepared dinner. But the apartment was absent all those things and Tina knew her sister was out - no doubt with her NoMaj beau. 

Tina sighed, knowing she’d end up sporting the black eye until her sister got home. Healing spells were one of Tina’s strengths; it was, of course, a requirement for being an Auror. Unfortunately she never had as much confidence performing healing spells on herself as she did on others- especially on parts of herself that required the use of a mirror to properly aim the magic.

The brown case on the floor near the couch caught her eye and Tina made a bee-line for it, ready to swallow her pride to get an icing charm out of her house guest. She knocked on the top of the case before cracking the lid and stepping in. 

“Newt?”

She made sure the lid was shut behind her, securely. She didn’t need another Niffler-chase through Manhattan... no matter what kind of friendships it started. 

“Newt?” she called again, standing on the ground outside the potting shed.

“Tina?” he came around the corner, his shirt sleeves cuffed to the elbow and his hair as delightfully mussed as it always was after he got through feeding his creatures. 

She tried to smile but winced. 

His eyes grew wide and his shoulders squared. Newt marched towards her, snatching her hand from her side and tugging her behind him as he walked back into the shed without uttering a single word. He parked her with her back to his cabinets and he stepped well inside her personal space as he reached over her head pulling down various bottles and jars. 

A pinch of an unidentifiable green substance that looked vaguely like scales, a drop of a yellow goo that she hoped wasn’t any sort of creature’s bodily fluid, and two herbs that she might have been able to place if he wasn’t moving so quickly adding ingredients to the mortar and pestle on his countertop. 

Tina watched with fondness as he mixed the ingredients by hand instead of using his wand. It appears he, much like herself, also appreciated a few NoMaj touches to his life. 

The mixture blended into a smooth cream that he scooped up with his fingertip and moved to dab onto her black eye. 

“Oh,” he paused with his finger a mere inch away from her face, realizing he should probably ask permission first. “Erm, May I?” Her trusting stare and half-nod of approval was his only reply. 

Newt’s free hand tipped her chin up ever so slightly to angle her bruised cheek bone into the light. His green eyes almost disappeared as he squinted and tenderly dabbed and massaged the balm into her skin.

Almost instantly the soreness faded away, replaced with a slight numbing sensation. Tina blinked in surprise as she felt the swelling receded almost instantly and she was able to move her face normally again.

“I probably don’t want to know what’s in that, do I?” She whispered. Newt’s face was close enough to hers that she felt her breath waiver. 

“No,” he replied, his own breathing equally catchy. 

The pressure on her chin hesitated slightly just before she found her lips covered ever so gently by his own. 

It was quick. Too quick for Tina’s liking. 

And before he could pull away too far, she boldly grabbed his hip and held him in place so he could not turn from her.

“I-” 

“Don’t.” Tina whispered, tensing her fingers against his hip. She didn’t need to hear the words to know his instinct would be to apologize rather than face rejection or be perceived as inappropriate. He was nothing if not unfailingly polite. “You’ve got nothin’ to be sorry for.”

Despite the dim interior of the shed, she could see his cheeks darken. He moved his grip from her chin and allowed his hands to tentatively run along her jaw. 

“Do you come home with black eyes often?” 

“It’s a hazard of the job. Usually Queenie puts a cooling charm on it until the swelling goes away,” she shrugged ever so slightly.

“Oh. I could do-” He started but found his words suddenly silenced as her lips ghosted across his. 

Where she got the bravery from, Tina wasn’t sure. “I think I prefer your way,” she said, her eyes sparkling with delight. 

Newt blinked and felt his cheeks reheat; a feat he hadn’t known was possible. “Well, I’d prefer to never have to make it for you again, actually,” he said, then realized how that may sound “I mean- I’d prefer you not come home with black eyes.” His fingers graced her eye socket again, checking to see if the swelling had returned. Satisfied with the condition of her injury, Newt found himself tucking her hair behind her ear and letting his fingers get tangled at the base her neck- almost cradling her face. 

Her mind stuttered over his simple words ‘come home.’ The realization of how much she liked that idea- to come home to Newt Scamander every day was a bit startling but not unpleasant and she felt her lips twitch up at the corners. 

“May I?” he asked, looking at her lips again. 

She just grinned and nodded. 

This joining of lips was much less fleeting and she felt him lean slightly closer. The feel of his chest so close to hers had Tina raise up on the balls of her feet in an attempt to get even closer to him; to ease the need to surround herself with the sense of him. 

It was an overwhelming sensation - one she hadn’t experienced before. Kissing was not new to Tina, though it had been quite some time, just like other intimate activities weren’t new to her. 

But this. This feeling was new. And she felt it relatively impossible to control her limbs. One wayward arm somehow managed to sneak up towards Newt’s shoulder, and it made sure to act as a barrier should he try to foolishly run away. 

She felt the ripple of muscle under his shirt as he shifted his body, changing the angle of the union of their lips. 

He was hesitant and she couldn’t help but wonder if it was an indication of his own experiences or just a symptom of his sometimes awkward public demeanor. 

Newt reluctantly pulled away, finding his breath coming much quicker and shorter than he anticipated. It wasn’t his first kiss, of course. But none had left him feeling so wholly affected by the experience. None had left him with his head rushing, his breath short and his pants slightly snug.

“Newt?”

“Hmm,” he hummed a distracted reply, never taking his gaze off her lips. 

She lifted her thumb and gently, hesitantly, traced it along his lower lip. “Does kissing in the shed fall into these rules of propriety you were goona tell me about?”

He startled out of his reverie at her words. “Oh. No. Most certainly not.” He pulled away slightly, trying to force some respectable distance between them. 

She gently unwound her arm from him, allowing him the ability to step back to where he was more comfortable. His hand fell from her hair and promptly the same hand ran through his own mop of ginger curls. 

“I received word from my publisher,” Newt started replacing bottles into his cabinets with methodical movements. 

She watched him move purposefully through the small space, very obviously changing the subject and finding busy work for his hands. After wiping her palms on her pants and taking a stilling breath, Tina grabbed a nearby broom and began to sweep the shed’s floor. 

“Sales of the book started yesterday.” 

“I bet they’re flying off the shelves,” she offered. 

He paused and turned to frown over his shoulder at her. “Yes, actually.” His face was one of disbelief. 

“I can’t believe you’re shocked, Newt!” She paused in sweeping, well aware that the broom could be enchanted to complete the task much more efficiently than she ever would. 

He was silent while _scourgifying_ his mortar and pestle. “I suppose I’ve spent so long defending my creatures that I’m rather surprised to find that other people are interested in learning about them.” 

She tapped the broom handle with her wand, encouraging it off to complete the task on its own. Tina touched his arm and turned him to face her. “Isn’t this what you wanted? The opportunity to tell people that your creatures aren’t dangerous?”

He nodded. “I just ... I don’t think I ever really hoped it would be this successful. It's a little shocking.” 

Tina grinned and tightened her fingers on his arm before moving away. “I’m proud of you,” she smiled and headed towards his messy desk. She knew better than to alter his paperwork but it didn’t stop her from picking up his discarded waistcoat and folding it to prevent further wrinkles. 

“Tina?” 

She looked up “Hm?” 

He managed to wrench his gaze away from his shoes. “I should head back to London to meet with my publisher for the second edition.”

“Oh.” 

“I would like-” he paused and cleared his throat. “I was wondering if you’d be -” 

The silence in the shed was almost deafening as she waited patiently for him to find the words he needed. 

“I’d like to visit again, if you’re agreeable. Perhaps in two months?”

She nodded and he stepped closer, his open stance moving on her as if she was a creature he thought might dart away at the last minute. 

Newt cleared his throat. “But I will not have a book as a reason for my visit.” 

Tina sighed and felt her face soften. “You didn’t need the book this time, Newt. I would have been happy to see you even without the book.” 

He stepped even closer and Tina watched as he opened and closed his mouth few times, struggling to find words. 

“Newt, I’m not always the best at tellin’ people...” Tina’s voice trailed off, searching for the right word. “Telling people how I _feel_ about them.” she corrected. “It was just Queenie and I for so long and she was always able to just _know_ that I cared for her. So I never really had to say it much.” She reached out and put a hand on his arm again, hoping the consistent contact would say what she knew she’d struggle to say. “I’m sorry if I _ever_ made you think I didn’t want you to come back unless you had a book.” 

“I-”

Tina shook her head, interrupting him. “You’re welcome back whenever you want, Newt. Book or no book. Even just passing through to go to Arizona. You’re my friend and I’m happy to see you whenever we can find the time.”

“Thank you,” he said, glancing down at his shoes before back to her soft gaze. Newt paused again, and Tina felt him stiffen momentarily beneath her grasp. “I...think I’d like to visit next time as more than your friend, Ms. Goldstein.”

She had not expected him to be so direct but it was not an unwelcome surprise. The gentle blush to her cheeks was noticeable. 

“I’d like that,” she said, smiling at him and tightening her fingers around his arm. 

“I know you find it outdated, but I’d like to spend more time corresponding with you. Horribly old-fashioned, I know, and perhaps not in line with your modern sensibilities but consideri-- ”

“Newt!” Tina interrupted again, closing the gap between them and covering his mouth with her own. She slipped back slightly and again traced his lower lip, that distracting lower lip, with her thumb. “I’m not in any rush.” 

“But-”

She shook her head. “Maybe you’re right; maybe we could spend some more time getting to know each other. Without having to chase creatures through the city at the same time,” she said with a hint of a smirk - just to take any sting out of the words. 

Newt dropped his gaze to his shoes, noting that they did need a good polish. “I believe you deserve better,” he finally uttered. “I’m sure I will disappoint you.” his voice barely above a whisper. 

Tina’s eyes widened as she realized his implication. “Oh, Newt!” she tipped his chin up so she was able to catch his eye. “You think... you think that you’re going to disappoint me?” 

He couldn’t help the flinch as she laughed. 

“We’re both ridiculous,” she said, pulling away and plopping down in his chair, crushing some of the papers that were on the seat. 

“I-” Newt’s brow furrowed. 

“I spent most of the day so distracted by wondering what English courting rituals I was going to mess up, I didn’t notice the wizard running away from Aurors Flint and Henry until it was too late and the jerk plowed me into the stair rail!” Tina gestured towards the eye socket Newt had repaired. 

“But-” 

“And now you want to spend the next two months ‘courting me’ by Owl Post before you come back to visit because you’re convinced that you don’t meet _my standards_ and that _you’re_ going to disappoint _me_?” she paused and sighed. “Newt Scamander. You’re absolutely ridiculous! WE are absolutely ridiculous.” 

His eyes, so wide open as if to appear owlish, just blinked at her in surprise. 

She slapped her hands against her knees and stood, carrying the same no-nonsense Auror posture he first encountered all those months ago. 

In two strides she was directly in front of him and before he knew what hit him, she had her lips on his and a hand in his hair. The other hand was tentatively finding his hand and lacing their fingers. She slipped her lips off his and watched his face for any sign of reticence. 

None. 

“Newt,” she whispered. “You are kind. And compassionate. And smart. And funny. And so unbelievably brave.” He tried to look away but she ducked again and caught his eye. “And probably tons of other things that I don’t know yet. But I promise you they ain’t goona disappoint me.” 

“It’s been quite some time since I, uh,” he paused and cleared his throat. “...trusted anyone. I’m not sure that I quite know ...”

She nodded. “It's been ‘quite some time’ for me, too,” she said, knowing exactly what he was implying. “But... I think we can figure it out together.” Tina squeezed his hand in hers. “If you want to, that is” 

“Yes. I do. Very much,” he said quickly, locking his fingers tighter against his own. Newt lifted the corner of his mouth in a shy smile and, with his free hand, tucked her hair behind her ear. “Perhaps in the future, you’d like to come to England? We could visit your Puffskins in Scotland if you’d like.”

It was not a shallow offer, she knew. Those words carried more than just a trip through the Celtic Isles. 

Tina nodded. “And we can find the Westphalian Water Dragon?”

He couldn’t hide the smile at the idea of Tina _voluntarily_ going to find and study creatures with him. The idea that someone would want to do his work with him as opposed to just tolerating his ‘hobby’ was new- and something he had rarely hoped would ever happen. 

But here she was. The woman who had chased first him, then his creatures, then a scared boy and an evil warlock all over New York, chronically fighting for what was right and helping those who needed it. Here she was, the woman who had stepped in to parent her younger sister and who gave away part of her own childhood to do so. Here she was, the woman who had woken up a part of his heart he thought long dead. This woman who gave him hope in humans, hope in himself, and hope in love. 

And she was willing to go find Westphalian Water Dragons with him. 

Not just willing, if the glimmer in her eye was an indication, but _eager._

It was more than he had ever thought possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the feedback and notes. I appreciate each of them so very much. This has been an incredibly fun story to pluck out of my brain and I'm thankful for those of you who read! No idea what the future holds. If these two want to chat more, I'll be happy to be their stenographer ;-) but for now, this is where we part ways. Newt heads back across the pond and Tina returns to daily life- but they've got a promise of more betewen them. And that's just what we all wanted, isn't it?

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing; please don't sue me. This is my first Fantastic Beasts FF and my first writing in almost two years. Please forgive me if I'm bit rusty.


End file.
